Through the Looking Glass
by Ms-Figg
Summary: Hermione Granger falls through the Mirror of Erised, and her Slytherin double ends up at Hogwarts. Her whole world is upended and reversed. The hated Albus Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and that honeybun Snape . . . he's a bloody Slytherin!
1. Twisted

**Chapter 1 Twisted**

Hermione Granger stood in the small, dusty room she had discovered, staring into the Mirror of Erised, a mirror that was supposed to show a person what they desired most. Hermione was frowning at her reflection.

In it, her hair was soft and curling, not the frizzy mess it usually was. Her face was nicely made up, but not overdone. She looked noticeably attractive. She guess she did want that, to be attractive, but something else about the image made her frown.

She was wearing Slytherin colors. She didn't want to be a Slytherin at all! The mirror was mistaken, very badly mistaken.

From the other side, Hermione was also frowning at her reflection in the Mirror of Noisreva.

_Look at my hair!_ she thought. _And I'm not wearing a drop of make-up, not even lip gloss! And damn, I'm in Gryffindor colors! That'll happen when Dumbledore comes to tea! Yep, this mirror certainly shows what you have an aversion to, that's for sure._

Both versions of Hermione studied each other, one with some longing, the other with total distaste. They leaned toward the mirror, each placing a hand against the glass.

Suddenly, the glass of the mirror became like water, and both were drawn in, and then through each other, eyes closed and the world whirling around them as they passed through the mirror, reversing so their hands still pressed against the glass.

Both sets of eyes opened.

"What the hell was that?" each witch said, removing their hands from the glass.

It felt as if powerful magic had been invoked.

Both witches shrugged and left the room.

Hermione walked out into the familiar corridor, then stopped, frozen as Albus Dumbledore walked toward her, a tea tray in his hands.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I've just brewed a spot of tea in the kitchens, and was on my way to my office . . ." the wizard said, then frowned slightly as he got a closer look at the stunned witch.

"Miss Granger, may I ask you why you are wearing Slytherin colors?"

Hermione stared at him, then let out a scream, pulled out her wand and fired a stunner, catching Albus off-guard. The wizard fell, knocked out.

"Help!" Hermione screamed, running down the corridor.

"Help! The Dark Lord is inside Hogwarts! Help! Someone! Anyone! Summon the Aurors!"

* * *

Potions master Severus Snape was on his way to Albus' office when he heard yelling. Quickly, he billowed down the corridor, running into Hermione.

"Miss Granger, why in the world are you running through the castle screaming like a bloody Banshee?" he snarled at her.

Hermione stopped.

Oh hell. Of all the teachers she could have run into, it had to be this bleeding hearted wuss? Anyone was better than Snape. He thought first and hexed later. Definitely not the teacher for the job.

"Professor Snape, I need to find Professor McGonagall immediately! Or Professor Flitwick, or even Filch. There's an emergency and I need a teacher that can handle it," she said to him breathlessly.

Snape stared at her in disbelief. What did she say? Filch?

Then his eyes narrowed and he pointed a pale finger at her garb.

"What are you doing wearing my House colors?" he hissed at her.

"Professor, I don't have time for your lame jokes. The Dark Lord is in the castle. I've stunned him, but--"

"WHAT?" Snape yelled, running forward and grabbing her by the arm roughly. "The Dark Lord is inside Hogwarts? Where, you silly chit?"

Hermione was quite surprised Snape had grabbed her. Even more that he'd called her a 'chit.' Flabbergasted, she pointed down the corridor.

"Down there," she said, pointing.

Snape released her, his wand drawn and fairly flew up the corridor.

Snape, charging into action? Snape? This was hard to believe.

Hermione ran behind him. Albus was just waking up, sitting up on his elbows, drenched in tea and looking bewildered.

Snape stopped, staring at him.

"Headmaster, are you all right?" Snape asked as Hermione skidded up beside him, breathless.

"Don't ask if he's all right, you bloody idiot! Kill him or something!" she yelled at Snape, pointing her wand at Dumbledore.

"Are you insane?" Snape yelled, snatching her wand out of her hand.

Hermione promptly kicked him in the shin. Snape grabbed his leg and hopped about, snarling at her.

"I knew it! I knew you were in league with the Dark Lord!" she yelled at him as Albus calmly got to his feet and calmly Scourgified himself as Snape grabbed Hermione by her hair and swung her around.

"Ow!" she yelled, grabbing at his hand and trying to kick him some more.

"Stop it, you little hellcat! Have you gone mad?" Snape hissed, putting her in a chokehold and pulling her back against him, letting out a gasp as she elbowed him in the ribs and tried to drop and twist. She almost got away, but Snape held on to her.

"I'm going to bury you under the dungeons," he growled, tussling with her.

Albus walked up to the struggling pair, adjusting his glasses and peering through them at Hermione with a bit of amazement.

"Miss Granger, by any chance have you visited the Mirror of Erised in the past hour or so?" he asked her.

"I'll tell you nothing, you black-hearted fuck!" Hermione hissed before Snape clamped his hand over her mouth.

"You tell him what he needs to know, Miss Granger, and tell him now," Snape said in a dangerous voice, tightening his hold and cutting off her air supply.

Hermione tried to hold out, but she was weakening. She relaxed as Snape took his hand away.

"Yes. I was at the mirror, but you're not very smart, are you, Lord Bedaub Mules? It's called the Mirror of Noisreva, not what you said," she snapped as best she could, still struggling a little.

"Lord who? The mirror of what? Headmaster, do you have any idea what's wrong with the girl? Has she lost her mind?" Snape asked him, widening his stance so Hermione couldn't kick his legs.

Albus straightened, shaking his head slowly.

"No, Severus. I believe she's lost her way. Bring her to my office," Albus directed, picking up the tea tray, cups and teapot and heading for his tower.

Snape threw Hermione away from him, then pointed his wand at her as she started to flee down the corridor.

"Incarcerous!" he hissed, binding the witch with ropes. She fell on her side.

The wizard strode up and roughly lifted her from the ground, turning her to face him.

Hermione spit in his face, a look of hatred on her own.

Snape's black eyes glittered as he wiped the spittle off his cheek.

"You'll pay for that, Miss Granger," he said in a low voice. "Be sure of it."

Hermione let out a string of obscenities that turned Snape's ears bright red. He hadn't even suspected she had such a colorful vocabulary. He flicked his wand and a rectangle of duct tape covered her mouth, shutting it effectively.

"I'm going to enjoy ripping that off you," he said to her, then he dragged her up the corridor like a sack of rock cakes, following Albus.

* * *

A/N: This is another one I'm going to have to get back to. Thanks to JBC, she gave me a feasible why to pull this story off. It's kind of a through the looking glass story, but we are only going to focus on the Hermione who arrived on this side of Hogwarts, rather than the one in the other universe, because it would be too complicated since everything is ass backwards and I'd have to rearrange everyone's characters. Of course it will be HG/SS. And probably a lot of fun whenever I get to it. Thanks for reading.


	2. Weirdness Abounds

**Chapter 2 Weirdness Abounds**

Hermione walked out into the corridor and decided to head for the library. It was the weekend, so she had no classes. She took the shifting staircase down to the fourth floor and walked up the corridor. The castle seemed eerily empty. It was the weekend, however, and from what she could see out the windows, it was nice outside. Maybe the students were in the courtyard or walking around the grounds.

She entered the library, breathing in the scent of leather bound books and parchment, her brown eyes washing over the tens of thousands of books that lined the walls and filled the shelves. Madame Pince was behind the counter, looking for all the world like an underfed vulture waiting for carrion. She looked at Hermione irritably but said nothing as she entered.

"Hello, Madame Pince," Hermione called out to the librarian, who continued to glare at her as if she were invading her territory.

Hermione was a bit taken aback. She was one of the few students Madame Pince was relatively nice to, because she always brought her books back on time.

Figuring Madame Pince must be having a bad day, Hermione idly walked to the back of the library, then stopped . . . stunned.

"What?" she said to herself as she looked for the rope that blocked off the Restricted Section. It wasn't there. Hermione couldn't believe it. Well, maybe they came up with a new protection. She walked back up to the desk, and looked into Madame Pince's shriveled face.

"Madame Pince, is there a new protection on the Restricted Section?" she asked the librarian.

Madame Pince scowled at the chestnut-haired witch before her. It didn't do a thing for her looks.

"What are you talking about? We don't have a Restricted Section! Now get out of here, I'm busy," the old buzzard snapped, clutching several books to her thin bosom and turning away from Hermione purposely.

Hermione blinked at the librarian. Madame Pince was always rather unpleasant, but now . . . she was plain nasty. Hermione decided not to press the issue and walked back to where the Restricted Section should be. She gingerly walked past where the rope would have been, half expecting something to happen, bells to sound, a trap door to open . . . something.

But, nothing did.

And there they were, books on the Dark Arts for anyone to read without supervision. That was . . . irresponsible. Some of these books were dangerous to even touch. Hermione looked at them closer and saw there were bits of colored paper or tape attached to them. Then she saw the sign:

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Dear gods. What was going on here? Some of these books could suck a person into another dimension. Others held evil spirits and demons that tricked people into making wishes, then took their souls. Had the Headmaster gone mad?

This had to be a recent development. Just yesterday there was a Restricted Section. She'd ask Dumbledore what was going on when she saw him next. Maybe he didn't know about this. Hermione couldn't believe he'd condone allowing students access to these books unsupervised. No, he couldn't know. Maybe Madame Pince had finally snapped and opened up the Restricted Section in hopes that a few students would disappear and she'd have less to deal with.

Hermione looked at the librarian, who glared back at her. She decided to leave. The library felt wrong and unwelcoming. Dangerous, actually, with all those books in the open.

Hermione left the library, and caught the shifting stairs back up to the seventh floor, heading for Gryffindor Tower. Maybe Harry and Ron were there playing Wizard's Chess. As she walked up the corridor, she saw a black cat with a white face and white paws walking toward her. It was cute.

Hermione held out her hand.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," she said to it.

The cat arched its back and hissed at her angrily.

"Well, you're not very nice, are you?" Hermione said, straightening and putting her hands on her hips.

Suddenly, the cat was gone and in its place stood someone very familiar, but . . . not familiar at all.

"I beg to differ, Miss Granger," the silken voice purred at her. "Past experience has shown me it is you who is not very nice. Last time I came to you in my animagus form, you tried to shove me in a burlap sack . . . I imagine to try and drown me."

Hermione blinked up at the wizard.

"Professor Snape?" she said, staring at him.

His hair was soft and shining, his face, unlined. He looked extremely relaxed and there was no harshness to his expression at all. He still had all the Snape features, big nose, black eyes and an angular face, but there was none of the built-in malice for all living apparent. In fact, he looked rather pleasant. His eyes weren't the least bit narrowed and he was slightly smiling.

The wizard cocked his head at her.

"Why are you in Gryffindor colors, Miss Granger? Trying to lure my Gryffindors in close enough to get a bead on them? You look . . . quite different. They wouldn't recognize you until they were right on top of you," Snape said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked him, touching her bushy hair. "I don't look any different than I usually look. And I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor colors. And what do you mean, 'your' Gryffindors? What's going on here?"

Snape looked at her a bit strangely.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger? You seem . . . confused," he said to her softly. "I don't want to take you to Poppy. She'd have your head in a vise for sure. I'd better take you to Minerva, your Head of House. I believe she's in her lab."

"Her lab? Professor McGonagall doesn't have a lab!" she said to the tall wizard, who gently took her arm and started walking toward the shifting stairwell with her.

"Of course she has a lab," he responded, still looking at Hermione oddly.

"Where else would she brew her potions?"

* * *

Snape threw Hermione into a chair, still bound and gagged as Albus put the tea set down on his desk, then walked behind it, searching for a particular book on the shelves that lined the walls.

Fawkes, who was sitting on his perch, whistled with surprise at seeing Hermione bound and gagged. Snape loomed over her, his pale fists clenched and looking as if he'd like to physically work her over. Hermione's eyes were narrowed with hatred as she glared back at him.

"Ah, here it is," Albus said, drawing a book out and sitting down at his desk with it.

He adjusted his glasses and leafed through the book, stopping at a page, his long finger tracing the sentences as he silently read them. He looked up at Snape.

"Remove the . . . er . . .tape from her mouth, Severus," he said to the wizard.

"With pleasure, Headmaster," Snape purred, using his fingernail to scrape up the tape on the right side, then ripping it off quickly.

"Ow, you bastard!" Hermione yelled at him as Albus winced.

"You know, it's too bad I can't take a thousand points from Gryffindor," he hissed at her. "Your behavior warrants at least that much."

"I don't care if you take two thousand points from your own house," she spat at him. "Why should I, you idiot?"

Snape blinked at her.

"What? Gryffindor isn't my house you batty wench! What's wrong with you? Has someone hit you with a Confundus hex?" Snape asked her in disbelief.

"Ah, Severus . . . Miss Granger . . . I believe a few simple questions will solve at least part of this dilemma. Now, Miss Granger . . . believe me when I say we have no wish to hurt you--"

"Speak for yourself, Headmaster," Snape growled as Hermione looked up at him with a bit of surprise. Snape being threatening? Completely out of character.

"Sure you don't. I'm a Muggle-Born. I know what you do to Muggle-Borns you sick, old coot!" Hermione said to Dumbledore.

Albus shook his head.

"Miss Granger, I'm hoping you have the same mental facilities as your counterpart and are able to understand what I am going to explain to you after you answer a couple of questions," the Headmaster said gently.

"Counterpart?" Snape and Hermione said together.

"Yes. Now tell me, when you were looking into the mirror, what did you see? Describe it for me," Albus said to her.

"Fine. I'll play your little game, Bedaubs Mules, but you're not going to learn anything," Hermione replied. "I saw myself. My hair was frizzy, I didn't have any style whatsoever, and I was wearing . . . ugh . . . Gryffindor colors. It was disgusting."

Snape blinked at the witch's venom when she said this. Gryffindor colors disgusting? Now that he looked at her, he noticed her hair was rather soft and curling, and her face was nicely made up. She actually looked rather pretty, quite unlike the Hermione he knew. Then he realized that this wasn't that Hermione at all.

"What was that mirror supposed to show you, Miss Granger?" Albus asked her.

"What do you mean? It's the Mirror of Noisreva. It shows what I have the most aversion to, and believe me, I didn't want to be what I saw in that mirror. It was me at my worst," Hermione said. "I'd never be a bloody Gryffindor. I'd slit my own throat first."

That settled it. This was NOT Hermione Granger, at least not the Hermione they knew.

Snape stared down at her.

"Are you . . . a Slytherin?" he asked her with deceptive softness.

"From birth," Hermione replied proudly, "I am of the noble house of Salazar Slytherin."

Snape looked as if he were going to throw up.

"Dear gods," he breathed, then looked at Albus.

"Headmaster, how is this possible?" he asked the wizard.

"Well, Severus. There is another reason the Mirror of Erised is kept in seclusion. It does show what we most desire, but it is also a kind of window to parallel worlds. Worlds that mirror our own, but are slightly different in makeup. There are an endless amount of these worlds, each exploring the different possibilities of a single existence and adding to the 'Collective Mind' as it were. Universal omniscience comes at a price, and we serve a higher purpose in the larger scheme of things. Normally, these parallel worlds are kept separated . . . but in this case--"

Albus looked at Hermione now, who was staring back at him, a bit of fear on her face.

" --in this case, two versions of the same person looked into magical mirrors at the same time, thus connecting and causing what is called the 'Ripple Effect.' The two alternate universes coincided at that moment, and the two reflections must have come into contact with each other. Did you touch the mirror, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a whisper, "and I felt powerful magic wash over me."

Albus nodded.

"You exchanged places with your counterpart. You are in her world, and she . . . is in yours," Albus said gently. "In this world, Hermione Granger is a Gryffindor. And in this world, I am no Dark Lord. I fight on the side of Good. The Dark Lord is a wizard named 'Voldemort.' He was once known as 'Tom Riddle.'"

"Tom Riddle?" Hermione gasped. "That just can't be!"

"And why not?" Snape asked her.

Hermione looked up at him with pride.

"Because Tom Riddle is the greatest Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen," she declared. "And the greatest wizard ever born!"

Albus stared at the witch in disbelief, as Snape pinched his nose.

Yes, this was just what they needed at Hogwarts. A Muggle-Born, pom-pom waving cheerleader for Voldemort.

Snape shook his head as he looked down at the defiant witch . . . a Slytherin no less.

This was going to get worse long before it got better.

* * *

A/N: Just had to write a little more for this. Thanks for reading.


	3. The Weirdness Continues

**Chapter 3 The Weirdness Continues**

Gryffindor Head of House Severus Snape led Hermione Granger down the shifting stairwell, somewhat at a loss. Firstly, the witch wasn't insulting him constantly as she usually did, and secondly, she actually let him escort her arm in arm. The Hermione Granger he knew wouldn't let him lay a finger on her. She told him she was afraid his "wussiness" was contagious. It had certainly infected his Gryffindors.

This Hogwarts was much different than the Hogwarts run by Albus Dumbledore. This Hogwarts was less rigid and actually encouraged less than stellar behavior to acquire what one wanted. The students here didn't automatically respect their teachers. Respect had to be earned, often at the tip of a wand, and the parents of any students who entered this school had to sign a waiver releasing the school of any responsibility in the case of a student's death.

Now, why would anyone send their child to a school such as this? Because Hogwarts graduates had an instant leg up in life and received preferential treatment and positions in the Ministry and other governmental positions. If a witch or wizard could say, "I survived Hogwarts," then that was an instant favorable resume and a place was usually found for them.

Muggle-Born witches and wizards were the cream of the crop in this world, considered to be the most pure magical beings of all. Purebloods were the bottom of the barrel, considered weak and intellectually deficient because of inbreeding. Muggle-Borns, Half-Bloods and Quarter-bloods were encouraged to impregnate Purebloods at every turn and break up the gene-pool. The Ministry tried to enact a Marriage Law to force this plan, but it was overrun, the Council slaughtered and a new board put in place. Screw voting them out. Even the Aurors didn't help. They simply let the ravening, murderous hoard through when they attacked the Ministry building. They didn't get paid enough to be killed by a mob. The bodies of the Council members swung in front of the Ministry for a week before they were cut down and cremated on the spot. Needless to say, the Marriage Law was never even considered again.

Purebloods were fine for fucking, but not marrying as far as the majority of the populace was concerned. Albus Dumbledore, or Lord Bedaub Mules wanted to overthrow this warped system and put Purebloods into power. He was the Pureblood's Zorro, considered a hero among them, although the sentiment was kept low-key.

Yes, this world was quite bizarre, but . . . it worked for them.

Severus Snape was a Half-Blood, but quite a fair-minded fellow who didn't believe in Muggle-Born superiority, but fair treatment for all. He didn't hedge on speaking about it, although it wasn't a popular view. Because of his leanings, he was often targeted by students of other houses, mostly Slytherins, who would do all manner of rather nasty things to him. He never retaliated as he should. Oh, he hexed back, but his hexes usually were meant to restrain and contain, rather than cause pain. For example, he had never hit a student with a "Cruc" hex, no matter how much they may have deserved it.

The "Cruc" hex was a lesser form of the illegal "Crucio" curse, and a perfectly acceptable form of punishment or retaliation. Most of the time, he simply walked the halls of Hogwarts with a repelling charm firmly in place, to stave off the attacks. Headmaster Tom Riddle probably could have done something about this, but he didn't, preferring the students to show his displeasure with Snape's views. But he couldn't be fired for them. He had tenure. Riddle had hoped ill treatment would drive him out, but Snape was determined to stay, if only for his Gryffindors, who he taught his philosophies of fairness.

Most of them were Purebloods, with only a few Half-Bloods in his house. Despite how they were looked upon by wizarding society, Snape taught them to be courageous, clever, strong-minded, friendly, passionate and kind. It was his hope that they would pass these qualities on and someday change the world for the better. He was an idealist. The only teacher at Hogwarts who was.

Potential Hogwarts students received letters just like in the other world, and were sorted into their houses by the Sorting Hat, although it was a painful process, the Hat actually forcing itself into their psyche to draw out the information it needed. The one bright spot of the Sorting was that the Sorting Hat never sang.

After being sorted, the first-years were all brought into an amphitheater and required to watch a film entitled, "Welcome to Hogwarts," narrated by Tom Riddle himself.

If Hermione was concerned about the availability of books in the Restricted Section, she didn't need to be. The "Welcome to Hogwarts" film was an excellent deterrent for foolish exploration of that section and students usually enlisted the aid of staff members to accompany them when they wanted to check out a book.

The film was actually a horror movie, showing in gory graphic detail students being shredded, swallowed, torn to pieces and swallowed down by books and the creatures lurking inside them. It also showed students meeting their ends through Potions explosions and poisonings through drinking ill-processed brews. Worst of all, the film showed a rather maniacal-looking Poppy holding up instruments of torture and "treating" patients. She was rather medieval. Bleedings, leeches, racks and vises abounded. Not to mention the screams of agony

"Healing should be hands on," was her motto as she stood in grainy glory on the screen, her apron splattered with blood. And whoever she got her hands on, the gods help them. As a result, a personal knowledge of healing spells was a must in this world. No one wanted to go to the Medical Ward if it could be helped.

There was also no point deduction at this Hogwarts, only varying degrees of detention, much of which involved torture by Argus Filch, who was a wizard in this world. A very nasty one. Luckily, he knew quite a bit of healing magic, so could fix up his victims good as new. Students would rather go to Filch for help than Poppy, although Filch usually wanted something in return for his services. And his wants were quite varied and often, demented.

The Age of Consent in this world was fifteen, and sex between students and teachers was accepted. It was a way to get extra credit without the students having to work too hard, or the teachers having to use up their free time marking extraneous parchments. Bi-sexuality was considered the norm rather than the exception. Heterosexuals, lesbians and gays were considered uptight and prudish, often targeted for their sexual preferences once they were known. Of course, most Gryffindors were heterosexual or same-sex oriented. Another reason for being on the Slytherin radar. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs basically didn't do much targeting. The main rivals in this world as in the other, were the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Some things never change, no matter what world they occur in.

Snape led Hermione down to the dungeons.

"Where is everybody?" Hermione asked him, still unable to fathom this very different Snape.

"Where? Sequestered, of course. As you know, there are only certain hours they can move around the castle on the weekends," he replied, shaking his head slowly. "Have you been hexed, Miss Granger? Did someone ambush you?"

"No, I was just walking around the castle," she replied.

"That can get you an hour with Filch," Snape replied, frowning at her. "Wandering the castle on off-hours holds a rather severe punishment. But then again, you probably like that kind of thing."

Hermione stopped walking?

"What kind of thing?" she asked him.

"Being manacled naked to a dungeon wall and having your buttocks whipped with a thin cane," he replied as if it was the most normal response in the world.

Hermione stared at him.

"What? What are you talking about?" she cried out, alarmed.

"Calm down, Miss Granger. Let me get you to Professor McGonagall. You're frightening me," the wizard said, pulling her forward. They walked down the dungeon corridor, then stopped in front of the Potions office. Severus knocked.

"If you're a student, get ready for Filch!" a female voice with a Scottish accent called out threateningly.

Hermione paled. That . . . that sounded like Professor McGonagall, but she'd never answer a knock like that.

"It's Severus, Minerva . . . I've got one of your students here. I believe she needs help," Snape said.

Minerva looked up from her parchments, frowning.

"If you're in the company of one of my Slytherins, Severus, I'm surprised it's not you who needs help," she replied with a nasty smirk. "Come in, if you must."

Snape opened the door and Hermione walked in, staring at the woman behind the desk, hardly recognizing her. It was Professor McGonagall all right, but a rather sinister-looking version of her. Her hair was dyed completely black and loose, falling over her shoulders, her robes black, high collared and severe. She wore black eyeliner, and her expression was rather harsh looking. Behind her were jars with things floating in them, things far worse than Snape's collection of slimy bits. Human heads, body parts, genitals and fetuses abounded.

Good gods! Was it even legal to own such things?

Minerva studied Hermione.

"Well, Miss Granger . . . wearing Gryffindor colors, no makeup . . . your hair is a fright . . . out hunting Gryffindors?" she asked the witch with a wicked smile. "An excellent deception. They wouldn't recognize you until they were right on top of you. Well done."

She frowned at Severus.

"You can go, Severus. She was lucky it was you that found her. Any decent teacher would have given her to Filch. Knowing Miss Granger, she probably planned it that way," Minerva said proudly.

Hermione just stared at her. Was she asleep and still in the room with the Mirror of Erised?

"Ah, Minerva . . . I think there is something wrong with Miss Granger. She told me she is in her proper house colors," Snape said, his eyes resting on the silent Gryffindor.

"Pah, she was just fucking with you, Severus, like she always does. You're such an easy mark. Must have something to do with that bleeding heart of yours," Minerva purred.

Hermione was horrified to hear such language coming from her normally prim and proper head of house. And the way she was addressing Professor Snape . . . and . . . and this office . . .

"Miss Granger, go to Slytherin house and change. Fix yourself up. You're as desirable as a Flubberworm this way," the Potions mistress told her. "I wouldn't lay a finger on you looking as you do. It's hideous."

Apparently, the other Hermione and Minerva had a very interesting relationship. However, this rather startling fact went right over Hermione's head as she focused on her first directive.

"Slytherin house? Change? What are you talking about Professor? I don't even know how to get into Slytherin's Common Room. And when did you start teaching Potions? You're the Transfiguration teacher!"

Minerva stared at Hermione.

"You can stop the act now, Miss Granger. It's ceased to be amusing," the witch said evenly.

"Act? I'm not acting! Has the whole world gone crazy? What's going on here?" Hermione demanded. "This is all wrong! All wrong! Professor Snape isn't nice . . . and you certainly don't belong in the dungeons. You're the Gryffindor Head of House, not Slytherin! I demand to know what's going on here! And right now!"

Minerva's eyes flicked to Severus.

"I think we're going to have to take her to Headmaster Riddle, Severus. Something is wrong here. Very wrong," she said as the wizard nodded.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Headmaster Riddle? Do you mean 'Tom' Riddle?" she asked, her heart pounding and her throat threatening to close up.

"Of course we mean Tom Riddle, Miss Granger. What's wrong with you?" Minerva asked.

Hermione began to back away, and bumped into Snape, who was looking at her quizzically, noting the growing terror on the witch's face. She slid by him, still backing up.

"You're going to take me to the Dark Lord? Oh, Merlin. I've got to get out of here!" Hermione shrieked, tearing the door open and fleeing down the hall.

"Why are you standing there, you fool? After her!" Minerva hissed at Snape. "I'll contact Tom. When you catch her, take her to him. He'll be able to make sense out of this."

Snape ran out the door and began pursuing Hermione.

What the fuck was going on here?

* * *

A/N: Just a little more background for this one. Thanks for reading.


	4. In Dumbledore's Office Short Chap

**Chapter 4 In Dumbledore's Office (Short Chappie)**

WARNING: Explicit sexual content.

Snape waited with Hermione, his wand trained on her while Albus went to retrieve Minerva. The Headmaster wanted to prepare the Transfiguration professor for the shock. Albus insisted Snape remove the bindings from the witch, and the dark wizard reluctantly did so. Now, he leaned back on Albus' desk, his dark eyes glittering as he watched her closely.

Hermione now understood her situation and she studied this version of Snape. His hair was lank, his eyes narrowed and he had a positively sinister look about him as he waited hopefully for her to do the least little thing that would give him the right to stun her.

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"So, you're the head of Slytherin house," she said to the wizard, who didn't reply.

Hermione smirked at him.

"The Snape is my world is an idiot, you know. A goody-two-shoes save-the-world wanna-be who preaches equality among wizards and witches," she told him.

Snape still didn't say anything.

"I hex him every chance I get," she continued, "he's too soft to even hex me back properly. A total plonker."

Snape's jaw tightened a little, but he still didn't respond.

"You look like you want to beat my ass," Hermione told him.

Now Snape's lip quirked at bit and his eyes glinted.

"Yeah, I can feel the difference in you. You're a bad boy," she purred at him. "No sugar-coated nads on you, are there, Professor Snape? I'll bet your counterpart shoots peppermint-flavored, rainbow-colored cream when he cracks a nut. Not that I'd know. He's such a pansy I've never considered bonking him, not even for extra credit."

One of Snape's eyebrows rose at this.

"You shag professors for extra credit where you come from?" he asked her.

"Sure. What? They don't do it here?" she asked him.

"No. They actually work to get higher marks," he replied, his black eyes drifting over her.

Hermione snorted.

"It figures. I suppose doing teachers is against the rules here, too," she said to him, her face screwed up with distaste.

Snape eyed her.

"Not exactly. But it hardly ever occurs. Most are too concerned about their reputations, on both sides. Yet, if a student is the Age of Consent, I suppose it is . . . possible, unlikely as it is," the wizard replied.

Hermione looked at Snape consideringly.

"Well, I'm way past the Age of Consent. So, tell me, are you one of those teachers concerned about his reputation, Professor?" she asked him.

"What reputation?" he responded.

The dark wizard's reputation was already shot. People believed him capable of anything, and they weren't far off the mark.

Hermione smiled at him. His answer said it all. He had no reputation to speak of, so . . . nothing to lose. This boded quite well. Hermione decided to make her play now rather than later. Timing was everything after all.

"Listen, I don't want to go to Gryffindor house. How about we strike up a deal, Professor?" she said to him, running the tip of her tongue over her lips.

The wizard watched the pink tip off her tongue moisten her lips and felt a little pulse despite himself.

"What kind of deal?" Snape asked her, slightly interested.

"Let me get up, and I'll show you," she said suggestively.

Snape looked at her, then his black eyes flicked toward the office door. Dumbledore wasn't that fast, and Minerva's office was on the first floor. Then, he'd have to prepare her. That could take some time. He looked back at the witch.

"I'll let you up, Miss Granger, but I warn you, I'll have no problem knocking you flat on your ass if you try anything stupid," Snape replied, gesturing for her to rise with his wand.

Hermione rose slowly, her eyes slightly narrowed as she walked up close to the wizard. She stopped, her body inches from his, and looked up into his face, taking in his suspicious eyes. He jerked as she wantonly pressed her hand to his crotch and clutched his goods. Still, Snape didn't say anything as the witch began to caress him. His cock began to swell and Hermione sighed appreciatively at his size.

"You have quite the trouser serpent, Professor," she said to him softly, "I always thought by the way you acted in my world, you had a cock the size of my pinky finger."

"You're a little slut, aren't you?" Snape growled at her. "I bet you fuck anything that moves at that school of yours."

Still, he didn't stop her.

Hermione smirked at him.

"You'd lose that bet. I only fuck when it's an advantage to do so . . . but I do other things too. Let me give you a demonstration," she replied, his slut comment not affecting her in the least. There were no 'sluts' where she came from. Only opportunists.

Snape said nothing to deter her, and the witch unbuttoned his robes where the telltale bulge was, then reached through the opening and let out a little gasp of surprise.

"No trousers?" she said to him, tugging at the wizard's briefs.

"Obviously not," came the silken reply

She lowered the front of Snape's briefs and pulled out his swollen cock, tugging it through the robes opening and letting out a whistle at its size.

"I see you aren't big on circumcision on this side," she breathed at him.

Snape's tool was pale and massive, at least ten inches long and with a girth she couldn't completely encircle with her thumb and forefinger. Still she grasped the shaft of it.

"Again, obviously," Snape said shortly, looking down at her hand curled around his cock, then hissing as she drew her hand down, pulling his foreskin back, revealing the glistening head.

Hermione began to work her hand back and forth slowly, fisting his cock as Snape leaned back further on the desk, gripping edge of it with his hands, letting his head fall back and eyes close, grimacing as she jerked him. His head snapped forward as he heard her spit, and he looked down at the saliva dripping off the head before she fisted over it, slickening her grip. Snape let out a groan, his black eyes snapping to her face.

"This is just a sample. I need an ally here, Professor. I have a feeling this world is full of nothing but simpering do-gooders. I'm going to go crazy here if I can't find an outlet, someone like me," she breathed, jerking him faster. "You're nothing like the Snape in my world. I'd shag you in a minute . . . if it would be worth my while."

She corkscrewed her hand a bit, and Snape shuddered, his mouth dropping open as she worked his length faster.

"You should try my blow job," she murmured at him as he gripped the desk, his pale knuckles whitening more as she spit on him again, his cock shining as she work on it, reaching through his robes to fondle his balls.

"Shit," he growled, watching the nasty little witch. "You're certainly no good-two-shoes now, Miss Granger."

"I never was," Hermione agreed, working her hand faster and lowering her face.

Snape grasped the back of her head, trying to force her mouth over him.

She jerked up and gave him a wicked smile.

"Oh, no, Professor. You don't get that until we reach an understanding. We'll have to meet and discuss us first, but . . . here . . ."

She knelt before him, her face directly in front of his cock, tilted slightly, waiting for it as she continued working her hands. Snape grimaced again, letting out a groan as he felt himself tighten, then a strangled cry as he came, coating her face with creamy come as he shuddered, his head hanging forward, lank hair swinging around it in a curtain.

He gasped as his orgasm ended, and Hermione wiped the tip of his cock on her face, then tucked it back inside his briefs, pulling them up and refastening his robes. She looked up at him, his release streaking her face.

"I think you'd better clean me up, Professor, unless of course you want your Headmaster to see how you've decorated your prisoner's face," she said with a dirty little smile.

Snape studied her face for a moment, his eyes like smoldering coals, then he flicked his wand at her, wordlessly Scourgifying the witch.

"Get back in the chair," he hissed at her.

Hermione slowly rose and backed up to the chair, sitting down sexily, her eyes full of mirth as she looked at his severe expression.

"Ever had a hand job from a student before," she asked him.

"No," Snape replied, as the office door clicked and began to open.

"But we will talk, Miss Granger . . . and soon."

* * *

A/N: Lol. Naughty Hermione isn't wasting any time is she? Lol. I've never had Snape get a hand job. He's never really been in a position to get one and I couldn't realistically have him in an intimate situation with Hermione and just willingly settle for that. But a handjob in the Headmaster's office? Whoo hoo! Lol. This looks like it's going to be quite a naughty little story. Thanks for reading.


	5. Meeting the Headmaster

**Chapter 5 Meeting the Headmaster**

Hermione raced down the dim dungeon corridor, her robes billowing as she ran for the stairs that led up to the Main Entrance. If she could just get on the grounds, she might be able to find someplace to hide.

"Miss Granger! Come back!" Snape called after her, his own robes billowing as he tried to overtake the terrified witch. Why was she so afraid of going to the Headmaster? She was a Muggle-born, and it was common knowledge that she and Riddle engaged from time to time, which was why she received preferential treatment. Whatever happened to her had screwed her up but good.

Hermione heard the wizard behind her, and it only served to make her run faster. She tore up the stairs and paused to cast a spell on them before running for the main doors. Snape got about two steps up before his feet slid out from under him and he crashed painfully on the stone stairwell, just managing to avoid hitting it face first. He cursed as he tried to stand up, but couldn't.

Hermione had covered the stairs in oil.

"Damn her," Snape hissed as he crawled up the stairs and stood up, Scourgifying the oil off of himself before taking off through the double doors. He saw Hermione running for the Herbology area. It was like a jungle there, dangerous plants abounded, growing wild. One had to know the path in order to make it through without being strangled by Devil's Snare, or pulverized by crushing vines. Snape doubted that Hermione could make it through in her current condition.

Suddenly, he Apparated and appeared in front of the witch just before she entered the tangle. Hermione ran right into him and he grasped her to him tightly.

"Let me go!" Hermione yelled at him, struggling. But unlike her counterpart, she didn't know any fighting moves, so she tried to pull her wand out on him. But Snape was used to that, and deftly plucked her wand out of her hand.

"Stop it!" he said to her. "Get yourself under control, Miss Granger. You're just going to the Headmaster to see if he can divine what's happened to you."

"Tom Riddle will kill me!" Hermione sobbed, ceasing to struggle, crying against Snape's chest. "He hates Muggle-Borns."

Snape held her for a moment, amazed she was crying. The only way he thought Hermione Granger would ever shed tears was if someone chopped a limb off. He was also aware of her curves. He had never engaged Miss Granger. She never wanted him to, saying she would do with just a passing grade in his glass. He was too soft to fail her.

"You're distraught, Miss Granger. Tom Riddle reveres Muggle-Borns, you should know that. Besides, you and he have a rather 'special' relationship. He wouldn't harm a hair on your head. Now, calm down," Snape told her.

His words effectively stopped her tears and she looked up at him in disbelief.

"A special relationship?" she asked Snape, who relaxed and let her step back a bit. He still held on to one of her arms however, placing her wand in his robes pocket.

"Yes. You are called to his office from time to time, and from what I understand, not to talk," Snape said to her softly.

Hermione stared at him, then said, "Ewwww! No, that's insane!"

Snape couldn't help thinking it was Hermione who was insane.

"Regardless of how insane you think it is now, you've been going to him since you reached the Age of Consent three years ago. Believe me when I say you are in no danger. Now, let's go back to the castle," he said to her gently.

Hermione let him lead her back toward Hogwarts, thinking now. At first, she thought Voldemort had somehow taken over the school and put himself in power, but that wouldn't explain this nice Snape and the strange Minerva McGonagall. She shuddered as she thought about what the wizard said about Tom Riddle and her. Three years ago, she would have been fifteen. Riddle would have gone to jail if he had touched her when she was that young. But this Snape claimed he did, and had been touching her ever since.

"So, Tom Riddle isn't the Dark Lord?" she asked the wizard walking beside her.

Snape chuckled.

"Sometimes, that's a matter of opinion around here," he replied with a smile, "but no. He isn't. Albus Dumbledore is the darker of the two. He's known as Lord Bedaub Mules."

Hermione stopped walking.

"Albus Dumbledore is after Muggle-Borns?" she gasped at him.

Snape frowned at her again as he urged her forward. They walked up the stairs leading into the castle.

"You are really out of it, aren't you, Miss Granger?" he asked her. "Albus Dumbledore wants to give power to the Purebloods, who are almost considered sub-magical. Although I appreciate his sentiments, his methods are less than stellar. Torturing and killing Muggle-Borns is not the way to go about it. Societal change is the way."

Hermione felt as if the world had turned upside down. This was no dream. She stopped again.

"What now?" Snape asked her, slightly irritated.

"Could I see your left forearm?" Hermione asked him.

"If it will make you move faster, here," he said, cautiously letting her go and pulling up his sleeve. The skin was pale and bare. He had no Dark Mark.

Hermione blinked at it, and at him.

"I don't think I'm at Hogwarts anymore," she said softly as Snape took her arm again, marveling at her statement. How could she say that when she was inside the castle?

Hermione didn't say anything else as they rode the shifting stairwells up to the seventh floor and headed for the Headmaster's tower. The Grinning Gargoyle was there before the wall. Snape murmured something and Hermione screamed as it ran forward snarling, towering over them, before reluctantly moving aside and letting them pass.

Snape looked at her. That was a strange reaction. The gargoyle was a sentry and could divine if a visitor was there for good or ill. If for ill, it would rip the intruder to pieces. It hadn't done so in ages, because everyone was on to it.

But it remained hopeful. Still, that was an unusual response from a witch who visited the Headmaster at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes she would even be summoned out of class.

They rode the spiral stone staircase up to the top, getting off of it. Snape could feel Hermione trembling against him as he knocked on the door.

"Come in," a pleasant male voice responded.

Snape and Hermione entered the office. Minerva was seated in an armchair, and Tom Riddle was seated behind a large mahogany desk. Fawkes was there too, on a perch, but a darker, less vibrant color, almost crimson as he eyed her. His eyes weren't the golden color she was used to, but black as night. He didn't make a sound.

Tom Riddle smiled at Hermione, his dark eyes taking her in. He wasn't the least bit scaly, in fact he was a rather handsome, slender man, with dark eyes and hair. He even had a dimple in his cheek.

"Ah, I see you've caught our little runaway, Severus," he said to the professor. But although he addressed Snape courteously, there was evidence of dislike in his eyes.

"Yes sir," Snape replied, directing Hermione to a chair. She sat down and stared at Tom Riddle in disbelief.

There was silence in the room for several moments, then Tom said, "My, Miss Granger . . . you look a fright without your makeup. And your hair . . ."

"I told you. Hideous," Minerva piped in.

Tom's eyes settled on her attire.

"Gryffindor colors, Miss Granger? It's enough to turn my stomach."

Snape stood by silently, not reacting to this slur on his house. He was used to it.

"Now, Minerva tells me you are acting strangely . . . claiming that those . . ."

Tom flicked an elegant finger at her robes

" . . . are your proper attire. I realize you have a devilish side, Miss Granger . . . in fact, I know for certain you do . . ."

The Headmaster gave her such an intimate, knowing look that Hermione felt like just covering herself with her hands.

"Now tell me, are you playing some kind of game with your professors? Don't worry, if you are it will attributed to your high spirits. You won't be given to Filch."

Hermione stared at him, not knowing what to say.

"Speak up, Miss Granger," Minerva hissed at her.

Hermione turned to look at the dark witch, taking in her attire and cold demeanor.

"I don't belong here," she said softly, "something's gone wrong. This isn't . . . this isn't my world."

Tom cocked his head at her.

"Isn't your world?" he repeated.

"No. In my world, everything is different. You are the Dark Lord, Professor McGonagall is the head of Gryffindor House, Professor Snape teaches Potions and Albus Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts," she told them.

Silence fell, then Minerva broke out in cackling laughter.

"Severus teach potions? We'd lose every student we have in that class if that were true. That dolt couldn't brew tea," she chuckled.

Snape kept his face neutral, although his fingers spasmed slightly as if itching.

Tom smirked at Severus.

"True indeed, Minerva, but . . ."

The wizard rose and walked over to Hermione, who stared up at him, mesmerized. He leaned down.

"I need to get to the bottom of this . . . and to do that, I'd better go straight to the source. Legilimens!"

Hermione let out a scream as a searing pain exploded inside her head, then everything went black.

"The 'Ripple Effect,'" a groggy Hermione heard Tom Riddle say as she regained consciousness. Her head was pounding. She sat up in the chair, blinking. Professor Snape was still standing beside her, staring at her incredulously.

"Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor. It's just madness," Minerva said, frowning at the witch. "Such a waste of potential and good breeding. Surely we can't put her in that house, Tom. It would be better if she were to stay in Slytherin."

Hermione was fully conscious now. They wanted to put her in Slytherin? Were they mad?

"In Slytherin house? With Draco Malfoy? No way. I don't get along with him," she said.

"Ah, awake I see," Tom said to her, his dark eyes rather curious. "I've divined why you are so out of sorts. You passed through the Mirror of Noisreva into our world, and our Miss Granger has passed into yours. We must get her back and of course, return you to your proper universe. Until we can do that, however, you will be placed like any other student, in your proper house. Slytherin."

Hermione took this in, but she was more concerned right now about being placed in the midst of her enemies, than passing through a mirror.

"But . . . but Draco . . . Pansy . . . we can't stand each other," Hermione said.

Tom chuckled.

"At least that much remains consistent between you and your counterpart. But no worries. Mr. Malfoy is a Gryffindor," he told her.

Hermione blinked at him.

"What? A Gryffindor? Are . . . are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley here?" she asked.

All three staff members looked at each other, then at Hermione. She didn't like the look they gave her. Particularly McGonagall, who wore a rather nasty smirk.

"Your playmates are here, Miss Granger . . . in their house. Slytherin."

Playmates? What did he mean playmates? Well, at least they'd be together. Obviously they were still close in this universe. It seemed everything was reversed. Those students who were Gryffindors were Slytherins in this universe and vice versa.

"Harry . . . is . . . is Dumbledore after him?" she asked tremulously.

"Oh yes. Has been since the day he was born. He didn't approve of his mother marrying a Pureblood, being she was a Muggle-Born and murdered her, along with his father. He tried to kill Harry too, but . . . it didn't work out," Tom said. "He considered James Potter a traitor to his own. Nasty business. Left quite a scar on his son. A lightning bolt shape on the boy's forehead. But you've seen it up close a hundred times, I'm sure," Tom purred as Minerva smirked unpleasantly again.

"Of . . .of course I have. Harry and I have been friends for years," she replied, not understanding why she felt as if they were hiding something from her.

"Friends," Minerva cackled from the chair.

Snape said nothing. Miss Granger was going to find out very quickly that her counterpart's life here at Hogwarts was much different than her own. He didn't agree that she should be put in Slytherin house, but he knew his input wasn't welcomed. He was sure it would be a disaster. Maybe after a few flare-ups he'd suggest she be taken into Gryffindor until she could be returned. Right now, there was nothing he could do.

"Now, you will attend classes just as every student does. Miss Granger has very high marks . . . she does quite a bit of 'extra credit' work. I'm sure you'll wish to keep those grades above par while here," Tom said, amusement in his eyes.

"Yes. There is only one class that Miss Granger is not leading the pack, as it were," Minerva said, her eyes shifting to Severus. "That's Advanced Transfiguration. But, she's marginally passing and is satisfied with that."

Hermione frowned up at Snape.

"Why doesn't she just do extra credit like for her other classes to bring up her mark?" she asked him.

Minerva and Tom both smirked. Their Hermione wasn't willing to fuck Snape because he represented everything she found weak in a wizard. Snape just shrugged.

"She doesn't want it," he replied obliquely.

"Well, that makes no sense. If I'm going to do her work, then I'm going to up her marks as well," she declared.

Snape blinked down at her. Hermione had no idea extra credit meant she'd have to shag him. He imagined the marks would stay substandard when she found out.

"A fine ambition, Miss Granger. Now, we are going to wait until the students all go to supper. They are there from five to seven. While they are eating, we will slip you into Slytherin house. I advise you to stay in your room for the evening and let no one in until we can advise them all of your . . . situation. Most likely that will happen tomorrow morning. In the meantime, we will put our heads together to figure out a way to get you back to your own world. While we wait, Professor MeGonagall will clue you in as to how our school operates. It is . . . quite different than your own. The students have far more freedom here."

Tom's eyes flicked to Severus.

"You may go, Severus. You're not needed here. This is a Slytherin affair," he said to him sharply.

Snape bowed and left without a word.

Tom and Minerva both looked at Hermione, and again, she had that cold feeling as she met their knowing eyes. She felt unsafe, and wished Snape could have stayed. He was a rather comforting presence.

"Keep your mouth closed and your ears open, Miss Granger," Minerva said with a rather feral smile. "There's a lot you need to know if you want to survive here."

* * *

A/N: Another chappie. Ah, poor Hermione. Ron and Harry "playmates?" Lol. This can't be good. Heh heh. Thanks for reading.


	6. Meeting Minerva

**Chapter 6 Meeting Minerva**

Snape leaned back on the desk, his eyes locked to the witch before him. The only difference Albus could see when he entered his office, was Snape's wand was more relaxed and not pointed directly at the witch. Well, that was some progress anyway. When he left, he was worried he'd come back to find a pile of ash in the chair where he left this altered Miss Granger. Obviously, they'd come to some kind of understanding.

Albus didn't notice the mortified portraits on the wall, some red and blushing, others looking a tad lustful, and one or two wizards jerking oddly in the unseen portion of their frames, lips pursed.

Neither Snape nor Hermione had thought about the sentient paintings when they "sealed" their deal. It was more action than the portraits had seen in centuries.

Minerva entered behind Albus, looking a bit drawn as she walked up to Hermione, who stared back at her.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" she asked Hermione, who frowned at her.

Minerva's hair was graying and pulled back into a severe bun behind her head. She wore a touch of makeup, but nothing bold and black and provocative. Her robes were blue, voluminous and unassuming. A pointed witch's cap rested on her head, a rather crumpled one at that and there was no aura of danger or sexuality about her at all. It was as if someone had sucked all the personality of the witch out of her, leaving this bland shell behind.

"You look nothing like my Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, her eyes sweeping over her. "I mean the facial features are the same, but you're not sexy at all."

Minerva's and Albus' eyes widened at this statement. Snape's lip quirked as the Transfiguration teacher swelled in indignation.

"Miss Granger. I'm a teacher. I don't need to be 'sexy,' Minerva spluttered.

"Well, you've managed to pull that off, let me tell you," Hermione replied. "If you were to call me to your office for a little tongue 'n fun, I'd tell you to hop the next broom to Hogsmeade."

"A little WHAT?" Minerva cried, drawing back from the witch.

"Tongue 'n Fun. You know . . . " Hermione replied, slowly flicking her tongue at her in an unmistakable way.

"My word," Albus breathed, walking behind his desk and falling into his seat. "Miss Granger, do you mean to tell me . . . you and the Professor McGonagall in your world are on . . . intimate terms?"

"If by intimate terms you're asking if we fuck, the answer is yes," Hermione replied.

Talking in such a manner at her Hogwarts was normal. Not so here, however.

Minerva turned scarlet and dropped down into another chair. Snape's mouth was still quirked but he didn't say anything. Still, by the way his dark eyes were glittering, he was enjoying Minerva's discomfiture.

"Well, such acts are not . . .aren't performed here by our students or our teachers. Professor McGonagall will not be summoning you to her office for such engagements," Albus said, his face red.

Hermione's brown eyes drifted over Minerva, then she asked, "Do you promise?"

"Indubitably," Minerva replied, waving her hat near her face and rocking. Her and Miss Granger performing cunnilingus on each other? What kind of world was it that this witch came from?

"So, if the Professor won't be summoning me to her office, how will I earn my extra credit in her class?" Hermione asked Albus.

"Why, by doing extra work assignments, of course," Albus responded.

"Is that the only option? More written work? That's time consuming, not to mention boring," Hermione said.

"Well, you could do some duties for your professors," Albus said, "but it would probably consist of sorting papers, cleaning and the like."

"Oh good Grindewald," Hermione muttered as everyone's eyebrows rose. "I want to go home yesterday. This place sucks the big one. And I mean the big one."

One of the wizard's portraits grunted, its eyes rolling up into its head as it grimaced.

"Headmaster Dippet, are you all right?" Albus called up to it.

After a few seconds, the panting painting answered him.

"Fine now, Headmaster," it sighed.

Minerva stared at it in amazement. Snape shook his head slightly but that was his only reaction.

"I'm afraid you're going to be here for a couple of days at least. We are going to place you in Gryffindor house . . ."

"What? Gryffindor house? But I'm a Slytherin. I don't belong there!" Hermione cried. "If this world is the mirror world of my own, then Draco Malfoy and the rest of those bleeding heart idiots will be there. I can't stand any of them! The house is full of BloodBums!"

Snape arched an eyebrow at this designation.

"BloodBums?" Albus repeated in askance.

"Purebloods," Hermione replied, her face screwed up in distaste. "Inbred wizards and witches."

Minerva's face went dark.

"I'll have you know, young lady, that I am a Pureblood, and I am certainly not 'inbred.' My mother and father were not related," she said darkly.

Hermione gave her a withering look.

"Not by bloodline, but by magic. It's a fact that magical ability lessens in those that have no infusion of Muggle or partial Muggle blood. That's why so many squibs are being born. Magical inbreeding. It's atrocious. Purebloods are considered the lowest form of magical human there is."

Minerva stared at her.

"Our worlds are definitely in opposition, Miss Granger," Albus informed her. "Here, Purebloods are considered the cream of society, and, I'm sad to say . . . it is Muggle-Borns who are not given due consideration, although it isn't openly. Voldemort tries to exterminate them at every turn as well as anyone who defends their right to exist."

"That's . . . that's insane!" Hermione spat.

"I agree, but that is how it is, Miss Granger. But you need not worry about Mr. Malfoy. He is in Slytherin house," Albus told her.

"Slytherin? A Malfoy in Slytherin? Oh gods, I'm going to be sick," Hermione said, holding her stomach for emphasis.

"And in this world, our Miss Granger does not get along with him, or any of the Slytherins. So, you understand why you cannot be placed in that house," Albus told her.

"So, tell me this, are Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley in Gryffindor?" she asked him.

"Yes," Minerva replied, "and our Miss Granger has a very close relationship with them."

Hermione smirked.

"At least that much is the same," she replied. "But . . . Gryffindors? Are they . . . all namby-pamby?"

"Namby-pamby? What do you mean, Miss Granger?" Minerva asked her.

"All . . . good," she said, her face twisted.

"Of course they're good. Noble, loyal, courageous. They have all the Gryffindor traits," the witch responded proudly.

"I need a bucket," Hermione said, heaving exaggeratedly before sitting up straight again. She eyed all the teachers, especially Snape, who hadn't said anything.

"Listen, I don't know if I can do this. It's too weird. No extra credit sex. No Slytherin house. Being subjugated by Purebloods . . . having to stay in Gryffindor . . . it's crazy," she said, shaking her head.

"You're going to have to do it, Miss Granger," Snape suddenly purred. "I'm sure others will help you adjust."

She looked at him and he arched an eyebrow at her meaningfully. Hermione understood. Snape didn't say anything but intended to do something. It made sense he wouldn't say anything in front of these . . . simpering do-gooders.

"Yes. Once my Gryffindors understand your situation, they will help you, Miss Granger," Minerva assured her.

"Fine, but I want a private room and that mirror put in it, the one I came through. Maybe Miss Goody-Two-Shoes will show up in it again and I'll be able to get out of here," she said.

Albus nodded.

"That is an excellent idea. If our Miss Granger thinks of this solution on the other side, then the phenomenon can be repeated and you'll be able to change places. But you will both have to be looking in the mirror at the same time, with no one else present in the room. All must be in sync," Albus told her.

"Fine, just get me the mirror. Now, do I get a healer bag?" Hermione asked.

"A what?" Albus asked her.

"A healer bag. It's a small bag of protective and curative potions. Healing potion, pain potion, a Bezoar. We carry it with us in case of a sneak attack," the witch explained.

"A sneak attack by whom?" Minerva asked, frowning.

"Teachers. Students. Whoever's got it in for you," Hermione replied.

"Teachers hex students in your world?" Minerva asked in amazement.

"If they've got any balls they do, because we hex them. Respect has to be earned. It's not just given, you know. How can someone who can't best you magically be in authority?" Hermione asked Minerva. "Our professors are constantly tested. If they can't handle it, they usually leave the school. We got rid of Quirrel that way a few years back. He was the Dark Arts teacher. Do you have a Quirrel here?"

"We did," Albus said, his eyes going a bit dark. "But no longer."

"Someone put another cover on a Dark Magic book, and when he opened it, he was sucked inside. It was great," Hermione said wistfully. "That happened my first year."

"Well, you won't be 'sucking' anyone into books here, Miss Granger. Teachers are to be given respect and any aggression on your part will be severely handled," Minerva warned her.

"What, does Filch torture students here too?" Hermione asked.

"Torture? Of course not?" Minerva hissed. "That's barbaric. You lose points and are assigned detentions!"

Hermione stared at her.

"I'm quaking in my trainers," she said, rolling her eyes.

Gods, this place sucked.

"So, okay . . . no hexing teachers. What about students?" she asked.

"Well, there are some altercations between houses on occasion, but nothing that warrants carrying a healing bag about. If you are injured, you go to Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary," Albus told her.

All the color drained out of the witch's face.

"You . . . you send students to the infirmary . . . on purpose? I thought you didn't do torture here!" she exclaimed. "No one willingly goes to the infirmary in my world. It's a butcher shop. The medi-witch doesn't even use magic on you. She uses vises, leeches, racks, knives . . . lots of knives, and needles. She experiments too. The whole ward stinks of blood."

Both Albus and Minerva blanched.

"Well, our medi-witch isn't like that at all," Albus assured her. "She uses all the modern magical healing techniques and has been here for years."

Hermione looked doubtful. She still wouldn't be going to the infirmary if she could help it. She looked toward Snape. He was the Potions master here. A blowjob or shag ought to get him to hand over a few potions and a Bezoar for her personal use. He already showed her he wasn't the least bit adverse to business as usual. Thank the gods.

The wizard looked back at her soberly.

Albus studied her, then drew in a deep breath.

"Miss Granger, our school is nothing like your own. There is no need for violence or fear here. All you must do is go to class and do your work and be relatively nice to others and you won't find it difficult here at all," he told the witch.

Hermione felt sick. Be nice? What for? The only reason she was ever "nice" was to get something, not just be that way. Being nasty was much more fun.

"Can I have my wand back?" she asked, looking at Snape pointedly.

The wizard reached into his pocket and retrieved it, leaning forward and handing it to the witch, his dark eyes glittering with warning.

Hermione took it and put it into her robes pocket.

"What hours are we allowed to move around the castle," she asked, already planning to get to Snape's office as soon as possible.

"Why, you are free to move about the castle and grounds all day until curfew, which is at nine o'clock in the evening," Albus told her.

"Really? In my world we have to stay in the Common rooms most of the day when not attending classes. We get a couple of free hours on the weekends, but that's it," she replied.

"So you see, there are some benefits in our world," Albus said with a smile.

"Not many," Hermione replied.

Minerva stood up.

"Miss Granger, you have to come with me to my office so I can give you Miss Granger's schedule. Then I will call a meeting of Gryffindor house and will introduce you to your housemates and explain your situation. I am sure you will find them helpful and accepting," the Gryffindor Head of House told her.

Hermione was sure she'd find them positively nauseating. There was nothing for it though. She was stuck here until her frizzy-headed little double managed to stick her face back in that mirror. Hopefully, she'd figure that out quickly.

"All right, I'm ready," Hermione said standing up.

"I'll see you later, Professor," she said to Snape, pursing her lips at him a little.

"Count on it," he responded shortly.

She didn't say good-bye to Albus before she left. She just sullenly followed Minerva out of the door thinking how much this whole situation sucked dragon eggs.

Rotten dragon eggs.

* * *

A/N: lol. This came to me this morning so I had to write it out. Thanks for reading.


	7. Hermione's First Night in Slytherin

**Chapter 7 Hermione's First Night in Slytherin**

Hermione sat on the side of her bed, safely sequestered in Slytherin house, hustled to the dungeons quickly by Professor McGonagall while the rest of the school was at supper. The had to be in the Great Hall promptly at five, at which time the doors were locked. Supper was let out at seven, and they had to be in their houses by seven-fifteen.

Attendance to supper was mandatory for students. Being late or missing it could be quite painful. A trip to Filch was in order. Heads were counted at each meal, once at the start and once at the finish, to make sure no one slipped out during the interim.

Hermione was completely appalled at the system here, unaware that some aspects of life at this Hogwarts had purposely been left out by Tom Riddle, who was always looking for ways to be amused. Hermione knew about the mandatory lock-ins, the punishments by a wizard Filch, and even to avoid Poppy, but she knew nothing about the way to get extra credit. Tom thought it would be interesting if she were left to find out on her own.

The dark professor McGonagall let Hermione look at her counterpart's marks, and the witch was quite impressed at her grades. She was "Above Outstanding" in every single class except for Transfiguration. That was her only "Barely Acceptable."

"Why are her marks so low in that class?" Hermione wondered to herself.

Her room was nice enough, everything done in silver and green. There were a number of items on the dresser that Hermione never used. Make-up, lipstick and such. In the bathroom, there were a number of flavored lotions and a bottle of shampoo and hair conditioner that were clearly brewed by hand. Was that how she kept her hair so shiny and curling looking?

When Hermione examined the wardrobe, she found regular robes, Slytherin ties, some jeans, t-shirts, a few dresses, and shoes, some with three inch heels and ankle ties. Except for the shoes, everything was pretty ordinary actually, and all in her size. She pulled out a white t-shirt and looked at it. It had writing on the front. She read it.

"I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter."

Hermione stared at the quote, then put the t-shirt back and took out another one. This was a red t-shirt which read:

"Your face or mine?"

"Oh my gods!" Hermione gasped. Surely her counterpart didn't wear this shirt in public.

There were a number of t-shirts in the wardrobe, and Hermione couldn't help looking at the rest of them, enthralled at the raw nerve of the Hermione that occupied this world.

"If I were you I'd have sex with me."

"Lie down. I think I love you."

"Fuck you, you fucking fuck!"

"Slippery when wet."

"DON'T PISS ME OFF! I'm running out of places to hide the bodies."

Hermione turned all kinds of colors when she pulled out a t-shirt with a picture of a cleaver embedded in a piece of meat. It wasn't the image that made her blush, but the "advertisement" over and under it.

"Hummers Smoked Meats and Sausages. All our meat is hand rubbed."

She shook her head. This Hermione was definitely her opposite. She'd NEVER wear a single one of those t-shirts. Luckily, she found a few blank ones as well. Next she checked out the dresser drawers.

It was full of nothing but thongs and bras of all types. Lace, leather, lace and leather, silk. Some of the bras had the cups cut out. There wasn't a sensible pair of underthings in the lot. Not to mention all the garters and stockings.

The next drawer held nightgowns, if you could call them that. All short and sheer, many with crotchless little knickers, and a couple of . . . were those body harnesses? Dear Merlin!

When Hermione opened the next drawer, she slammed it back closed in shock for a moment, before slowly pulling it out again, staring at the contents. There were dildos and vibrators, little flogging whips, soft ropes, blindfolds, leather cuffs, little clamps with chains, bumpy little things that looked a bit like plugs. She had no idea what those were used for.

One thing was for sure, this Hermione wasn't saving herself for marriage.

On the dresser was a picture of Slytherin Hermione standing between Ron and Harry. She was posing sexily, and they were both pressed close against her, rakish looks in their eyes as they met the camera. Hermione picked up the picture and studied this universe's versions of her closest friends.

Well, they looked like Harry and Ron, but there was something a little off about them. Something just a tad unwholesome in their eyes and the way they held their mouths. The body language was different too, kind of . . . well . . . boastful? Or maybe just really, really cool. This photo didn't move however.

Apparently they were just as close here as they were in Hermione's world. So, at least that would be familiar although she doubted they were known as "the golden trio."

There was nothing golden about Slytherins. Still, Harry was being hunted by Albus Dumbledore, or Lord Bedaub Mules here, so she imagined he'd faced a lot of danger just like in her world. More than likely, this Hermione helped him out a few times. As uncomfortable as she was with the idea that Dumbledore was evil in this world, he was still a despot and Harry still needed protecting. She'd help all she could if anything went wrong.

There were a number of books on a small bookshelf, but the class books were piled on the dresser. Hermione looked at the books and saw a number of them had library stickers on them. She decided not to take a closer look. Some of them may have come from the former Restricted Section, and she'd seen that horrible "Welcome to Hogwarts" movie.

What she wondered was who filmed it while students were getting killed? It was awful and she felt like throwing up the entire time.

Professor McGonagall made references to her "fixing her hair" and putting on her face before leaving her room in the morning if she wanted to fit in. Hermione was considered quite attractive in this world and it would be harder for her housemates to accept her if she didn't at least look the part. There would be a meeting in the morning before breakfast where she'd be introduced and her story told.

"They're most likely not going to like you being a Gryffindor, so I suggest you adopt a more suitable attitude. Niceness is not a virtue at this school, believe me. It'll get your ass blasted before anything else," McGonagall warned, looking at her with distaste. "If you feel threatened, act first. Be sure to use hexes that no one will want to be hit with. Make your first victim an example."

Hermione took this in, inwardly horrified that she was expected to hurt other students. Well, she wouldn't do it. She'd bind them or Stupefy them if she had to, but she wouldn't do any damage. But she'd be sure to keep her healing bag with her.

"And watch your food. Sometimes a student will add a little something unpleasant if you look away," Minerva warned, before locking her in and going to attend to other business with Tom.

Now Hermione sat on the bed. Her stomach growled. She was so hungry.

Suddenly, a house elf winked in, holding a plate with a sandwich on it in one clawed hand, and a glass of pumpkin juice in the other. It looked down at the floor as it offered her the food.

Hermione stared at it, because it was wear clothing. A gray shirt and gray short pants, both with the Hogwarts symbol printed on them. On its wrists were two thick metal bracelets.

Hermione took the food from the elf.

"Thank you," she said.

The elf looked up at her with such malice and hatred, Hermione recoiled, then . . . the bracelets suddenly shocked it, little sparks running up its limbs, the creature shuddering with pain then winking out without a word.

Hermione couldn't say for sure, but it seemed the house elves here weren't the least bit happy with their servitude. They were true slaves and by the look the house elf gave her, angry ones. Hermione looked at her sandwich. Should she eat anything given to her by a creature that so obviously despised her and all her kind?

Her stomach growled again.

Well, the food was probably safe. More than likely those bracelets kept the elves from doing anything harmful to the humans they served. Hermione bit into it. It was a ham sandwich made just the way she liked, with sweet pickles, lettuce, tomatoes and mustard. She and the other Hermione either shared the same taste in food or the house elves were attuned to her likes and dislikes. Either way, the sandwich was delicious.

After she ate, she placed the empty plate and glass on the nightstand by the bed, selected on of the less bawdy nighties in the drawer, a short white one, transfigured a pair of thongs into comfortable knickers, and entered the shower to get ready for bed. It was a bit early, but she was tired.

She used the shampoo and conditioner available, and found that it made her bushy, frizzy hair soft and curling. It really looked quite nice, as if professionally styled. That was handy stuff. She'd have to find out what was in it and take the recipe back with her

She dressed for bed and climbed in, totally exhausted. She turned down the torches with her wand, slipped it under her pillow and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Hermione suddenly awoke, and found herself pressed between two warm bodies. Someone was nuzzling her neck, and the other . . . oh Merlin!

"Hey!" Hermione screamed, the bodies pulling away as she grabbed her wand and turned up the torches. On either side of the bed stood Harry and Ron, both naked, looking down at her as if she were crazy.

"What the hell are you doing, Hermione?" Ron demanded as she trained her wand on first one, then the other, horrified.

"What are you doing in here?" she said, trying to avert her eyes, while keeping her wand on them.

"You told us to come tonight," Harry said, his green eyes washing over her. "You said you felt like making a serpent sandwich."

"Yeah," Ron said, frowning at her. "What gives, Hermione?"

"I . . . I changed my mind," she said tremulously.

Both Ron and Harry looked very disappointed.

"But it's been a week since I had any quality pussy, 'Mione. And I had to bugger Sprout's fat bum earlier, and I'm still squicked. Just give me a little to wipe the memory out of my mind. I wish she'd lose some weight. It's like being caught between two huge, jiggly pillows made of meat," Ron complained as Harry smirked at him.

Hermione stared at Ron openly now. He had a nice body and his cock was rather long and pink, surrounded by a bush of red hair. He had buggered Professor Sprout? The Herbology professor? Dear gods. If he had, why was he complaining? She couldn't have made him do it, could she? He could report her and have her dismissed.

Harry stared down at her, then slowly approached the bed. He had quite a nice body as well, very taut, with a six-pack, but was completely hairless. His cock was shorter than Ron's but of bigger girth. He must shave or something. Both of them were circumcised.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You know you'll love it once we get started," Harry said to her with a little growl. Hermione turned her wand on him.

"Both of you get out of here! I said no, and I mean it!" she hissed at him.

Ron's blue eyes flicked to Harry, and a wicked little grin formed on his face.

"Maybe she'll warm up if she watches us for a bit, Harry," he suggested, "You know how that turns her on. Tell you what, I'll wrestle you for top position . . . "

He began walking around the bed warily, heading for his friend, and apparently, lover.

Harry took a defensive stance, flexing his curled fingers at Ron in challenge, his erection swinging slightly.

"All right," he said with a wicked smile of his own, his green eyes hot.

"NO!" Hermione cried, unable to believe this. "Both of you get out of here now!"

Both Harry and Ron stopped menacing each other and frowned at her.

"Hermione, why are you being such a cockblocker?" Harry asked her.

"I . . . I just don't feel good. You two get out of here," she said to them again.

"Fine," Ron said, walking over to a chair and picking up his boxers and sliding them on, Hermione looking at his tight buttocks and flexing back. He had a few freckles. Harry did likewise, then they retrieved their wands from her dresser, both of them turning and scowling at her.

"Next time, tell us when you're getting your period," Harry snarked bad-naturedly as they exited her room.

"Yeah, we could've had our own sausage party," Ron added, closing the door.

Hermione just stared at the closed door in horrified amazement. Ron and Harry shagged each other? And her? What kind of fucking warped, insane world was this?

She sat there, with the torches raised to full, wondering what other surprises were waiting for her.

She hoped no more like this.

* * *

A/N: Lol. I had to do it. :) Thanks for reading.


	8. Escaping Gryffindor House

**Chapter 8 Escaping Gryffindor House**

As Severus Snape billowed back to the dungeons, he was turning over this new Hermione's situation in his mind. Obviously, she was just as smart as their Hermione although much more crass and uninhibited.

Which was good for him. He intended to take full advantage of her traditions. She was sort of an exchange student after all, and everyone was encouraged to respect the tradition and culture of others. That's all he'd be doing really. Most likely, she'd be more comfortable with that. Albus might not like it if he found out, but really there'd be very little he could do. Of course, Snape wouldn't be able to give her extra credit for her attentions, but he could slip her a few points here and there in class, practicing the nepotism he was known for with his own Slytherins.

He thought about her requesting the Mirror of Erised being placed in her room. It was a good idea, it really was . . . but, it wouldn't get her home. Everyone was overlooking the obvious, something he saw quite clearly.

When Hermione passed through the mirror, she was a Gryffindor in Gryffindor House. Her proper place in the universe. This Miss Granger would be a Slytherin in Gryffindor House, and so, would be out of sync with the natural order. The transfer wouldn't work the way things were. This Hermione needed to be in Slytherin House for the balance to be restored.

Now, another teacher might have brought this error up immediately, but not Snape.

He was in no rush for her to go back. She would be a pleasurable distraction for him. Snape didn't get much pleasure at all, especially of a sexual nature, so of course he'd want the witch to hang about for a bit. He'd like to try out her other skills. It would be nice to have something other to focus on other than his continuing existence.

Snape had been trying to figure out a way to get out of his service to both Dumbledore and Voldemort for years. The blasted Dark Mark was the reason he had to continuously return to the scaly despot over and over. It caused him so much pain when he was summoned, he had to appear. Then he underwent all kinds of interrogations and tortures once he got there. Crucio'd and whipped until he could barely move. It was a horrible way to live. At least he continued to survive, but for how long?

Snape frowned slightly as several of his Slytherins greeted him in passing. He didn't answer them. He rarely returned greetings. He was never happy to see any of the little buggers and didn't pretend he was. All spoiled little Death Eater wanna-bees. They had no idea what service to the Dark Lord was like. None at all. If he had known, he never would have joined him.

Never. But that was all water in the moat now. He was stuck with this situation unless he could find a way to save himself. Let Dumbledore and Voldemort raze the whole wizarding world to the ground if they wanted to. All he wanted . . . was to be free. He'd done more than enough for Harry Potter and his mother's memory. Lily didn't even give a damn about him in the end. It was insane to keep this up. Albus may have caught him young, weak and impressionable when he pressed him into service, but the old wizard had broken his promise to save Lily and used Snape's grief to keep him bound.

Well, he'd woken up over the years and would have quit this madness long ago if he could have, but there was no way out. He was in too deep, too enmeshed in both Albus' and Voldemort's schemes. If only he had someplace to go out of both their reaches, far from their influence.

He opened the door to his office and let himself in, his mind shifting back to the Slytherin Hermione.

Hmm.

Making a connection with this Miss Granger could have benefits other than a bit of sexual relief. Great benefits that he could live with. As a Half-Blood, he really didn't give a damn who was the upper crust of the wizarding world. He was squarely in the middle after all. All he really cared about at this point, was his own ass. This bloody war could go on forever, and he didn't have much faith in Harry Potter's ability to best Voldemort, and actually Snape believed that he'd be dead before any clear winner was claimed.

That wasn't good either.

Yes, he really needed to get in good with this Hermione. She could be the answer he'd been looking for.

* * *

"Well, at least she has decent marks," Hermione said as she looked over her counterpart's transcripts.

"She's the brightest witch in the school. She even outperforms Ravenclaws," Minerva said proudly.

"She must not have much of a life, since she has to do so much extra credit work," Hermione said, frowning slightly.

"Ah, yes. Miss Granger is very focused on her work, almost to the exclusion of all else," Minerva agreed.

"Does she have a boyfriend, a girlfriend or at least some partners?" Hermione asked.

Minerva turned red.

"Sexual interaction is not encouraged here, Miss Granger. The focus is on education," she said rather primly.

"Done right, sex is very educating," Hermione replied, giving McGonagall a naughty smirk.

Minerva was once again reminded that this young witch was intimate with her counterpart, and flushed as Hermione rested her brown eyes on her thoughtfully. The flush didn't escape her. Maybe this McGonagall had some deep set desires she never thought about. It was something to keep in mind anyway.

"Not here at Hogwarts, Miss Granger. If you are caught in a compromising position, you will be reprimanded for it," Minerva warned her.

"Yeah, I know. You'll take points from me and give me detention. Oh, horrors," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"You must also take Miss Granger's reputation into consideration," Minerva added, "what you do here will reflect on her when she returns, even if she wasn't the one in the wrong."

"In the wrong?" Hermione said, scowling. "If you ask me, you all are in the wrong. Sex is natural and pleasurable and a way to work off stress. It's also a form of fair exchange, comparable to money and goods. It's not fair to deny access to it if a person wishes to indulge in it. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, a shag would come in handy right now."

"I'm sorry if you are frustrated Miss Granger, but when in Rome . . ."

Hermione sighed, wondering how soon she could get to Snape's office. It would probably be after the stupid meeting with the Gryffindors. She wasn't looking forward to it.

"All right. All right. No shagging allowed. I've got it. How long until the meeting?" Hermione asked bad-naturedly.

"Well, I've sent summonses to all my Gryffindors. So, after supper we will meet in the Gryffindor Common room, at seven o'clock.

"How long do you think it will last?" Hermione asked her.

"Possibly forty-five minutes to an hour. I need to introduce you and . . ."

"I know them already. You don't have to introduce them. Can't you just tell them I stumbled into this world and will be here a couple of days and leave it at that?"

"No. They have to be made aware that although you look like Miss Granger, you aren't her. And the only way to do that is to explain your universe works a bit differently than ours and to reveal . . . your house affiliation."

Hermione snorted.

"I'm sure they'll be overjoyed at the opportunity to try and convert a Slytherin," she said darkly.

If they started bugging her, they could count on a few fried robes. She wasn't about to be set on by a bunch of well-meaning dolts. She was a Slytherin and they'd know it. House be damned.

"They might be," Minerva said with a smile. "But they'll give you space as well, if you just tell them that's what you want."

"That's precisely what I want," Hermione said frowning.

She hoped this didn't go past an hour.

* * *

Hermione stood frowning in front of the fresh faced Gryffindors waving their hands. They were in the Common Room and Minerva explained the magical process that brought Hermione among them. It had gone rather quickly and Hermione was glad of that, but then, Minerva asked, "Are there any questions?"

And that's why she was still standing here. It was a quarter after eight now, and she only had forty-five minutes to get down to the dungeons and Snape. His unsmiling face would be a welcome change from all these bright, helpful smiles.

"Don't worry, Hermione, we'll help you get along," Ron had said to the witch brightly, with a broad smile.

Hermione was put off by Harry and Ron in this universe. They were so . . . wholesome looking, had none of the swagger and male confidence of their counterparts and were just so . . . so eager to please. Like Muggle puppies.

What was worse, neither of them looked as if they'd ever been laid in their lives.

Well, she wasn't up to training newbies, that's for sure. So, her only option for anything remotely pleasurable here, was the snarky professor Snape. Well, at least he had a nice-sized cock, a huge one really. Hopefully, he'd know how to use it when the time came, but she didn't plan on shagging him right away. She'd work up to it, getting all she could out of the wizard before she handed over the goodies. When it came to wizards and sex, it was best to keep them hungry.

"So Dumbledore's the Dark Lord in your world, and Tom Riddle is Hogwart's Headmaster?" Ginny asked her.

Hermione sighed.

"I've already answered that fucking question five times," she hissed.

Everyone fell silent.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for language, Miss Granger," Minerva said darkly. "I don't care how you speak in your universe, but here we use proper language."

"But everyone's asking me the same questions over and over. Can't we end this? It's annoying," Hermione said to the Transfiguration teacher.

"Very well. You can all mingle now. Curfew is in forty minutes. Try and make Miss Granger feel welcome. Good night."

Minerva rose to leave and Hermione was immediately surrounded by Gryffindors.

Oh good gods, she thought as a sea of smiling faces and more questions came at her from every side. She was about to pull out her wand and clear a path when Harry's voice rang out.

"Hey, give her some room, everyone. She's just got here and she answered a lot of questions. Let her breathe!" he said to his housemates, who all backed away from Hermione.

She looked at Harry, who gave her a smile. She scowled at him slightly.

"Thanks, she said, heading up the stairs to the girl's dormitory and making a beeline for her private room. She needed to figure how to get past all those sappy do-gooders without getting caught. No doubt they'd all be like "you shouldn't go out so close to curfew" in nasally voices.

But she just had to get out of here. She stared at the Mirror of Erised. All she saw was her own reflection, her black robes adorned with a Slytherin tie. She was wearing Gryffindor colors, which she pulled off and flung to the floor. The mirror still showed her staring back at herself dressed as a Slytherin.

She sighed, thinking about Hermione.

"Where the fuck are you?" she hissed, frowning into the mirror.

Then she pulled out her wand and Disillusioned herself, creeping out of her room and stopping on the landing. Many of the students were still in the Common Room.

"Damn it," she growled, her brown eyes hard. Then she got an idea.

She studied the path to the Common Room exit, then whirled her wand over her head.

"Nocturnis," she cried, plunging the Common Room into darkness.

"Hey! What happened?" voices rose as Hermione shot down the stairs, bumping into a few bodies as cries of "Lumos" arose and wand tips lit up.

"Somebody light the torches," Harry said, then felt himself bumped by someone.

"Watch it," he hissed.

Hermione hurried down the corridor that led to the exit, then out into the castle just as the Common Room lit back up.

Whew. She'd made it.

"It's late, you know," the Fat Lady sang out, aware someone had left the tower.

"Good to see you can tell time," Hermione replied, making her way to the shifting stairwells.

Snape was about to leave his office and retire for the night when there was a pounding on his door. Not the light, tentative knocks he was used to, but loud, heavy pounding.

Snarling, he pulled the door open to see a shimmer standing there.

"Let me in," Hermione's voice hissed at him.

The wizard blinked, then stepped aside, watching as the shimmer walked by him. He closed the door as it sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

He watched as the shimmer flowed downward, revealing a scowling Hermione Granger.

"I hate this fucking school," she said to him, rubbing her temples.

Snape thought it was something else they had in common, although he didn't comment. He continued staring at the witch.

There was a reason for her being here, after all.

And he was sure it would be a pleasurable one.

She turned in the chair, her brown eyes washing over him.

"I need something from you," she said to him, "and I'm willing to trade for it."

"Do tell, Miss Granger," the dark wizard replied, folding his arms and arching an eyebrow at her.

This sounded quite interesting.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading


	9. Taken Hostage

**Chapter 9 Taken Hostage**

WARNING: GRAPHIC ADULT CONTENT THIS CHAPTER. 

"I'd like to make a healer's bag to keep with me while I'm here," Hermione told the dark wizard. "I need a bottle of pain potion, healing potion and a Bezoar. And your best potions, not the standard stuff. I know for a fact most Potions masters and mistresses have their own special brews. That's what I want."

Snape studied her. She wanted quite a bit, didn't she? But the witch was right. He did have special potent brews he used himself to cure much of the damage he suffered from Voldemort. A Bezoar would be simple. He had a box full of them.

"My brews are quite . . . expensive, Miss Granger. Quite expensive and take a great deal of time to create," he purred at her.

She smirked.

"Any Slytherin worth his salt would say that, true or not," she replied evenly. "I want these things but they aren't worth as much as full access to me. I'm saving that for when you really help me. Like, getting me out of Gryffindor. I haven't been there more than two hours and I'm ready to commit Hari-Kari," she told him.

Snape frowned at her. He had hoped to fuck the witch. He hadn't fucked in forever.

"Suppose I demand full access," he asked her.

"Then, I just go back to Gryffindor house very disappointed and consider what could have been a pleasurable association over. If you aren't willing to meet me half of the way, what's the sense of it? Maybe I'll ask Flitwick for help. The one in our world loves eating pussy. I bet this one's not any different and it's less work for me," Hermione replied smoothly.

"Our Professor Flitwick is an upstanding professor of this institution. He wouldn't do it," Snape told her.

Hermione gave him a rather dirty smile.

"Are you absolutely sure about that? I can be . . . very persuasive," the witch said.

Snape studied her, her hair, her make-up, her bearing. This Hermione was quite alluring, pretty and she definitely gave off a very sexual vibe. Maybe Flitwick would indulge himself, especially once he knew in her world it was something acceptable. Flitwick loved other cultures after all. And the wizard could brew, although he was the Charms teacher.

"What are you offering?" Snape asked her.

Hermione stood up and backed up to his desk, then hopped up on it, sliding far back so there was space in front of her. She kicked off her trainers, pulled off her socks and pulled her robes up, revealing a pair of comfortable jeans underneath as Snape watched her with more than a bit of interest. But other than baring her feet and jeans, she did nothing else.

"I thought we'd start out with a bit of 'Handjob Hostage,'" she said with a wicked smile.

Snape frowned slightly. Handjob hostage? He'd never heard of it.

"What is that?" he asked the witch, feeling a little rise

"It's kind of a game. Want to play?" she asked him, her brown eyes hot.

"I don't do 'games,'" Snape replied, although he started to approach her.

"You'll like this one, trust me. If you don't . . . we'll stop," she replied.

Snape walked up to the desk, his dark eyes resting on her face.

"Very well. What do I have to do?" he asked the naughty witch.

"Open your robes, turn around and hop up on the desk and sit between my legs with your back to me. I'll take care of the rest," she told him.

Snape unbuttoned his robes, revealing his rather thin, pale chest, belly and briefs. The professor was very thin, but hard and sinewy, with no extra skin or fat. Hermione studied the scars on his belly. She knew what kind of scars those were. Whip scars.

"I thought they didn't do torture here," she said to him in a low voice as he turned around and hopped up on the desk, sliding back so he rested against her.

"I'm a special case," he said shortly, feeling her wrap her legs around him so the heels of her feet rested on the inside of his thighs, locking him against her. One of her arms wrapped lightly around his throat.

"Handjob hostage," she breathed, reaching into his briefs and pulling out his semi-rigid cock. She pulled back the foreskin and ran her thumb over the leaking head, smearing the murky pre-cum over his organ for lubrication.

Snape let out a groan.

"No noise!" she suddenly hissed, clapping her hand over his mouth. "Now, you just take this!"

She slapped his cock lightly, then grasped the shaft tightly.

Shit. Snape couldn't help but let out another little groan at her roughness. He'd never been treated like this before, and it turned him on greatly. His cock swelled to immense proportions in her grip.

"You like it," Hermione breathed in his ear, starting to work her hand up and down his shaft, corkscrewing it deliciously when she reached the top, swirling it over his sensitive head, which was leaking more now, providing the lubrication she needed as she worked her fist, Snape's head falling back against her shoulder in pleasure, her hand still covering his mouth.

Hermione worked his full length, first fast, then slow, then faster again, the wizard's hips jerking and his hisses and groans muffled against her hand.

"Shut up!" she told him, grasping the head of his cock tightly, then slapping it again, grabbing it by the base and beating it hard against his belly.

"Shuft!" Snape cursed against her hand, which tightened, her hand slipping down to his balls, and feeling them tightening.

"Oh, so you're about to come are you? No. You're not," she whispered to him, catching the head of his cock and squeezing it hard.

"Arrgh!" Snape groaned, the delicious urge to ejaculate curling around his balls with nowhere to go. He shuddered as the urge subsided, but not for long as the talented witch began to work his cock again, fast, slow, twist, squeeze, slap, bring him back to the edge again, Snape whimpering against her hand.

"Oh no, professor, not yet," she hissed, once again clasping his glistening head and squeezing it, trapping the urge again. Snape's eyes rolled up into his head. She kept up the exquisite torture for more than twenty minutes, Snape bucking against her as she kept her legs wrapped around him and his body pulled back. She released his mouth a couple of times to let him whimper and groan, waiting for him to say the inevitable.

"Let . . . me . . . come," he groaned.

"No. You'll come when I say you'll come," she snarled at him, clapping her hand back over his mouth and once again grasping the head of his cock, which was so swollen with blood now, it was crimson and angry-looking.

Hermione peered over the wizard's shoulder, down at his pulsing, glistening tool, so lubricated, its juices were pooling on the edge of her hand, which made little squishing noises as she worked it back and forth, licking the wizard's ear now, adding to his torturous pleasure. Snape was more than ready to let go.

"Say please," Hermione breathed, kissing his ear and running her tongue around it, loosening her hand over his mouth.

"Please," Snape breathed, lost to his desire to release, to be set free from his imprisonment.

Hermione focused, working her hand quickly, listening to the wizard's breathing becoming labored and harsh, his hips jerking spasmodically and then.

"Arrrrghmmumph!" Snape cried, Hermione clamping her hand over his mouth mid-yell as the wizard spurted, his eyes rolling up into his head, pressing back against her as she tightened her legs, holding him in place as his cock bounced, the wizard groaning "yes, yes," against her hand as his climax eased and he relaxed. Hermione released his mouth and let her hand trail over his thin chest as she caressed his cock a few more times, bringing him to a close.

"That was nice, wasn't it?" she purred into his ear.

Snape caught his breath and let his head rest against her shoulder heavily, his dark eyes closed and his body relaxed.

"Definitely one of the better games I've played," he responded, rewarded by her naughty giggle as he rested against her, spent.

After cleaning up, Snape and Hermione retired to his private study, where the witch asked him if he had any wine. He did, and prepared her a glass. She sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and stared into the as she drank it down. The wizard made himself a Firewhiskey and joined her, sitting in the armchair next to hers, a small table between them. He was silent as usual as he sipped his drink thoughtfully.

"Too bad you aren't at my Hogwarts. You'd fit in there I bet," Hermione said idly.

Snape didn't respond.

"Want to tell me about those scars?" she asked him, still looking into the flames.

"No," he said.

Hermione's eyes shifted toward him.

"Mysterious too. That turns me on," she told him.

"Everything seems to turn you on, Miss Granger. I doubt you have an 'off' switch," he replied.

Hermione chuckled.

"You're just a port in the storm, Professor. Something familiar in an unfamiliar world, that's all. I assure you I am very selective about whose cock I jerk," she said, swirling her wine in her glass. "Have I earned my healing bag?"

Snape considered. She said she wouldn't have sex with him already, and he felt she'd stick to her guns about it. She was manipulative and he doubted she changed her mind easily.

"You've earned the Bezoar and the pain potion," he answered. "My healing potion is extremely valuable and in short supply."

Hermione turned her head to look at him, his hawk-like profile flickering in the firelight.

"I bet that has a lot to do with those scars. Some are relatively new. I know scars," she said to him.

Snape didn't reply.

"I only want a small amount. I imagine it's very powerful. Three or four ounces will do. It's unlikely I'm going to need it with these marshmallows, but, I'd rather have it than not," Hermione said. "The Poppy here might be a decent medi-witch, but I'm a product of my environment. Some things are just ingrained, like not going to the infirmary."

Snape nodded. He knew all about conditioning.

"I might be able to spare three ounces, given the proper motivation. No more hand jobs, however," he bartered, turning his head to look at her now, his black eyes glittering.

Hermione quirked her mouth at him.

"I knew you'd say that," she said, "how about a blow job? I give excellent blow jobs. Very wet and nasty."

Snape looked back at the fireplace.

"Wet and nasty is acceptable," he replied, finishing his Firewhiskey.

Hermione wanted another glass of wine, and since he needed a bit more time to recover from being held hostage, he supplied it and returned to his seat, amused by the witch complaining about the way their Hermione lived.

"All she has is white cotton knickers, bras and sensible shoes. And not a damn sex toy in the place," Hermione complained bitterly. "She has no make up, and some no named shampoo she uses. I didn't even see conditioner. No wonder she has the frizzies. Do you think you could throw in a bit of lab time for me? I need to make up a batch of shampoo and conditioner or I'm going to look just like her."

Hermione shuddered.

"That can be arranged," Snape said, not wanting the witch to lose her attractiveness.

If she started looking like the old Hermione, he might not be able to get it up for her. The Gryffindor Hermione Granger did absolutely nothing for him but annoy him. Probably because many of his tortures at the Dark Lord's hands were because of her brilliance. This Hermione was blameless.

"What are you going to do for make-up?" he asked her.

"Oh, that won't be a problem. I'll just ask some of those eager-to-please housemates of mine and I'll probably be buried in the stuff," she replied. "Gods, they're insufferable. How do they stand all the niceness? It feels like . . . like I'm in some kind of cult or something."

Snape smirked and shook his head.

"I'm working on a solution for you, Miss Granger," he told her.

Hermione stared at him. She'd thought he couldn't do anything about her being placed in Gryffindor house.

"You are?" she asked him.

Snape nodded.

"Yes, but I still have to see how you interact with my Slytherins. There is bad blood between our Miss Granger and my charges. She's an insufferable know-it-all and has done a few things to some of my students."

"You mean, like hexing them?" she asked Snape.

"Hexing, punching, things of that nature," he replied.

Hermione smiled.

"Good for her. I'm glad she's not a total skidmark," the witch said.

"No, she's shown quite a bit of Slytherinish qualities. She's definitely a rule-breaker," he said.

"So, there's hope even in this universe," Hermione stated, finishing her wine and setting the glass down on the small table, flicking her eyes at the wizard's loins. He was sitting with his robes open, his briefs visible. She watched as his cock pulsed and he turned his head toward her.

"So it seems, Miss Granger, so it seems," he purred.

* * *

A/N: Whoa! Better than coffee in the morning. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	10. Hermione's First Day

**Chapter 10 Hermione's First Day**

Swinging her healing bag, a happy Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, leaving a very pleased and satisfied Snape behind. Her blowjob was indeed very nasty and very wet, involving saliva and lots of deep throating and gagging, once she realized that turned Snape on even more. She even did teabagging, which the dark wizard enjoyed immensely.

He gave her the potions, Bezoar and a little unassuming pouch to keep them in under her robes as well as a pass to get her back to Gryffindor Tower in case she ran into Filch, which she did. After setting his coattails on fire once she realized the crotchety old bastard was a squib, she returned to the tower without incident. Of course, she might have earned a detention or two for setting Filch ablaze, but he'd been asking for it, and his stupid cat raked at her robes.

Big mistake. She was going to try and claim self-defense when they came down on her, but didn't think she'd get away with it. Oh well. If they wanted to protect their staff here, they really should think about torture.

It was a better deterrent.

* * *

Hermione stood before a silent and narrow-eyed group of Slytherins in the Common Room, Harry and Ron among them. They had heard the story of how she came to be here and how she was a Gryffindor in the other world. She had done a fair job of making herself up like the other Hermione, but felt a bit self-conscious about it, so the aura she gave off was one of nervousness.

Slytherins picked up on nervousness like sharks did blood, unfortunately. Unlike the Gryffindors, these students didn't have a single question for Hermione. Slytherins were taught to listen carefully the first time, so they didn't have to ask questions and clue someone else in who might not have been listening as well. It could give them an advantage later on.

Minerva looked at her silent charges knowingly.

"I want to impress upon you that if anything happens to this Hermione, we will not be able to get ours back," she said to them. "So it's important she remain in . . . good health."

This got some reaction. A couple of "aws," which Hermione didn't like at all.

Hermione took a silent head count. There was Harry and Ron of course, Ginny, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Parvati Patil, Colin Creevy, Romilda Vane, Dennis Creevy, Natalie Macdonald, Jimmy Peakes and Euan Abercrombie. A few others stood in the back that she couldn't quite make out, but they were all definitely Gryffindors in her universe.

But, there was something off about them. You could practically feel their high opinions of themselves radiating off of them, as well as their disdain. There was an aura of . . . well . . . cunning, almost wickedness, the same glint in every eye. These students were the cream of Hogwarts and knew it, even if no one else did. And they were dark and ambitious as well. Each one of them would willingly step on the head of the next one to get a leg up, although they worked together out of necessity. There was none of the sense of closeness that one felt in Gryffindor house, more like a sense of tolerance here. Even the Slytherins in Hermione's universe didn't give off vibes as bad as this. There was some friendship and closeness in that house. Not so here.

"All right. Off to breakfast with all of you," Minerva said, departing without a further word to Hermione. The Slytherins all broke out, only Ron and Harry lingering for a quick moment.

"You should have told us," Harry hissed at her.

"You still a virgin?" Ron inquired, his blue eyes raking over her.

"I didn't know how to tell you, and I wasn't thinking with both of you naked like that and ready to have sex with each other. And yes, I'm a virgin . . . and plan to stay that way," Hermione told them.

Harry shook his head in disgust and walked off without another word.

Ron stared at Hermione.

"You look just like her. If you know what's good for you, you'll act like her too. I'll be glad when she gets back," he told Hermione, then he too exited the Common Room on the way to breakfast.

Hermione was left all alone in the Common Room. They were giving her the cold shoulder. Well, it was better than being beset upon at any rate. Luckily for Hermione, she was rather solitary anyway, unless dealing with Harry and Ron, and she wouldn't be dealing with these versions of them at any rate.

Hermione picked up her backpack of books and slung it over her shoulder. On the visible part of it was very small writing that stated:

"If you can read this and you're not a Slytherin, you're too fucking close!"

It was her counterpart's bag of course. She headed out of the Slytherin Common Room and to breakfast in the Great Hall.

She got there without incident, her eyes wide as she looked at the Gryffindor table and saw Draco Malfoy eyeing her. Well, it was Draco, but he didn't have the same bearing as Draco. He was rather wholesome looking, with none of the attitude of the Draco of her world. He nudged Goyle who looked up at her too, frowning. She quickly looked away and sat down at the table.

"Missing your old house?" Parvati asked her nastily, sliding away from her a bit. Lavender, who was on the other side, did likewise, both acting as if she would contaminate them.

Draco's sharp gray eyes noticed immediately.

"Why do you think they're giving Granger the cold shoulder? And why is she taking it? She normally dresses people down instantly," the blonde pureblood said to Crabbe, who shrugged.

"Maybe she farted," he suggested.

Hm.

Draco continued to stare a hole in the witch's back. The way she had looked at them . . . as if she'd never seen them before. Normally, if she made eye contact with them, she'd throw an obscene gesture their way. But this morning, nothing.

Ron and Harry were sitting directly across from Hermione, eating their food rather sullenly. Suddenly, there was a loud, tinging noise and Hermione looked up to see Tom Riddle standing up, tapping a fork to a glass to get everyone's attention. All the Slytherins, drew their plates in close to them, except for Hermione, who listened to the Headmaster attentively.

She didn't see Parvati flick something into her food. But Ron and Harry did, shaking their heads. The witch wasn't going to last here long at all. It was common knowledge that Parvati hated Hermione, because she kicked her ass last year when they argued over who Ron was going to spend the night with after he played his best Quidditch game of the year. She did it without magic too, which added insult to injury.

So, Parvati didn't care if the bitch never came back.

Tom told of a new torture method being introduced in the next week. Humiliation. It involved being collared and leashed by Filch and led around the school on all fours for an hour in nothing but underwear. This was for lesser offenses, such as lateness.

Hermione blinked as Tom sat back down, shaking her head.

This world was insane. But she'd be sure to be on time for everything.

She spooned some of her porridge into her mouth and immediately turned pale and mottled, her throat closing up on her, unable to speak as she clutched her throat.

Ron sighed as she succumbed to the poison, then calmly reached into his healing bag, took out his Bezoar, stood up, leaned and grabbed Hermione by the nose so her mouth opened, then shoved the shriveled stone into her mouth, clamping it shut with his hand so she wouldn't spit it out. After about thirty seconds she could breathe again. Ron held out a paper napkin.

"Spit," he said, and Hermione spit out the Bezoar.

"Someone tried to poison me!" she gasped as Parvati calmly ate her food with a little smirk.

"Someone did poison you. Watch your food," Harry told her. "We want our Hermione back, so don't go getting yourself killed. And put a repelling spell around yourself to protect you from hexes when you're moving through the castle. Stupid Gryffindor."

Ron wiped off his Bezoar and returned it to his pouch, sitting down and returning to his meal as Hermione pushed hers away, no longer hungry. She stood up.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed at her.

"Leaving. I'm not hungry any more," she told him.

"Sit down, you idiot. You can't leave until eight-forty-five. We all leave at the same time," he told her, frowning at her blackly. "Then we have fifteen minutes to get to class."

Hermione looked up at the dais where both professor McGonagall and Tom Riddle were scowling at her, not to mention Filch. She slowly sat back down.

Only professor Snape didn't look condemning as he thoughtfully ate his breakfast. He saw Weasley give her the Bezoar. Obviously, someone in Slytherin house meant to get back a little of their own. Whether it was because they knew she belonged in Gryffindor house, or because they wanted to keep the original Hermione Granger from returning, he didn't know.

"Damn," Draco said, "Parvati tried to poison Granger and almost did it. She's off her game, that's for sure."

Crabbe shrugged.

"Who cares?" he said, biting into a doughnut. "Granger's a bitch. We'd be better off without her."

"It's still strange," Draco responded.

Goyle snorted and shook his head.

"Draco, you need to stop getting wood over Granger. She's not going to shag a Pureblood who's not a teacher. You don't have anything to offer her. Besides, she hates you," he told him.

"I don't have wood over Granger," Draco lied, scowling as he dug viciously into his eggs. "I just noticed her acting differently."

"Proof you do have wood. Why else would you even notice?" Goyle said, piling more bacon on his plate.

Apparently, in this universe, Goyle had higher thought processes. He was actually smart and observant.

Only in another world.

Draco fell silent. Well, they shared classes together. He'd keep an eye out.

He was certain something was going on. He could feel it.

* * *

Hermione's first class was potions, and apparently they were going to do some brewing. The classroom looked just like the one in her universe, large enough for a double class, with the same stone gargoyle in the corner with water running out of its mouth. What was different however was that the cauldrons were very widely spaced and Professor McGonagall sealed the students into their workspaces with a powerful containment spell.

She later found out that was to contain explosions, so only the brewer would be injured. Of course, the spell had to be removed for anyone to get to the injured party, which cost precious seconds. If they were Slytherins, Minerva treated them as best she could with healing and pain potions, but if they were of other houses, she gave them only nominal aid, and contacted the Heads of House. She gave them five minutes to retrieve their injured students, or else, she transported them to Poppy, where they had to be rescued by Filch, if he was inclined.

The best thing was to be a good, attentive student and brew properly. Hermione was impressed however. Not a single student blew up a cauldron and it was a rather difficult brew they were making. In this universe, impending death or being shipped to Poppy was quite the study aid.

Charms was a bit shocking. Flitwick still looked like Flitwick, but his white hair was styled into a rather devilish looking curl on both sides, like devil horns, parted in the middle. He had a decidedly sinister mien about him, and when he talked to students, he was very touchy feely, rubbing thighs and backs and occasionally pinching. Everyone accepted this though. And the "charms" he taught were really nasty hexes.

Here, you couldn't have enough of them.

It was a good thing Hermione followed her fellow students to the Herbology area. There were wild, vicious plants everywhere and a tiny path one had to follow in order to get by them without being strangled, crushed or even eaten. She stared at a fifty-foot high Venus fly-trap that turned to follow her as she passed. The flower was large enough to swallow two of her whole.

The Dark Arts class was taught by professor Slughorn just as in her world, but he was nowhere near as ingratiating and he put down students worse than Snape did in her own world, calling them idiots, inbred and a number of rather obscene names. He definitely didn't like Gryffindors. Here, Dark Arts were taught, not the defense against them. Hermione was appalled at some of the spells listed on the syllabus. They were horrible.

Only professor Snape's class seemed relatively normal and familiar. The Slytherins looked bored to tears and passed notes behind his back as he wrote notes on the board. But they did listen and take notes. None of them were interested in getting "extra credit" from the Gryffindor Head of House so they had to make their marks the old-fashioned way, by working. It was clear that students of other Houses did indulge however. When class was let out, Hermione joined a little line in front of his desk after he announced students could make appointments for extra credit.

Hermione thought it a bit odd that appointments had to be made. Maybe he watched them work to make sure they didn't cheat at it. That was entirely possible in this world. She didn't notice the narrow-eyed looks her housemates gave her when she got in line.

But no one said anything.

As the student in front of her departed, Hermione looked down at Snape, who was busily writing a name into a schedule he had spread on his desk.

"Name?" he said, without looking up.

"Ah, Hermione Granger," Hermione replied.

He looked up sharply, very surprised.

"Miss Granger?" he said in shock.

"Yes. I want to do some extra credit. I see my counterpart has a Barely Acceptable mark in this class, while she has Above Outstanding in all the others. I thought since I was here, I'd up her grade a bit," the witch explained, seeing his surprised look.

Snape continued to look at her.

"That's all right, isn't it?" she asked him.

"Ah, yes. Yes it is, Miss Granger," he replied, erasing a student's name and putting hers in. "Nine o'clock tonight?"

Hermione frowned slightly.

"That's at curfew," she said.

"Extra credit can be assigned at any hour of the day or night, when most convenient. Would you like to make it earlier or later?" he asked her, still looking at her oddly.

"Well, maybe a little earlier. After supper would be good," she responded. "How long will it take?"

Snape studied her.

"Well, that depends on what you're willing to do. It can be as little as five minutes or as long as an hour, depending on how high a mark you want," he replied.

"Oh. An hour sounds good," she said.

Snape blinked at her for a moment, then erased another name, and put hers in.

"Seven-thirty. That'll give you a little time for your food to digest," he told her.

Hermione wondered what food digestion had to do with anything, but didn't comment on it.

"Seven-thirty is fine. I'll see you then, Professor," she said, turning and leaving the classroom, Snape looking after her, rather surprised she was willing to do extra credit. She seemed so . . . so innocent.

"Hm. For some reason, I didn't think she'd take to this so well," he thought to himself as he rescheduled the two students whose names he had erased.

"I guess I was mistaken."

* * *

A/N: Poor Hermione. lolol. Notice Snape putting her in immediately? ROFL. This ought to be interesting.


	11. On the Way to Breakfast

**Chapter 11 On the Way to Breakfast**

Hermione woke up at six o'clock sharp, as she was conditioned to do. She took a shower, making sure not to get her hair wet, dried off and applied lotion to her body. At least this Hermione had lotion. It wasn't flavored, but it would do.

Then she walked naked into the bedroom and went through the underthings drawer, frowning at the sea of white cotton knickers. They weren't even bikini cut, but big and sensible granny knickers.

"Grindewald's goodies," she thought as she finally chose a pair and a bra, carrying them over to the bed, picking up her wand and transfiguring them into something a bit more savory, turning the knickers to a white thong, and adding some lace to the bra.

"Much better," Hermione said to herself, putting them on. Then she shifted through the wardrobe, sighing at the dull, wordless t-shirts there. She chose a blue one. At least the jeans were well-worn and comfortable. She pulled them on and retrieved a pair of white socks, put them on as well and her trainers. She selected a black robe, frowning at the Gryffindor insignia on the breast.

She walked over to the dresser, looked in the mirror and studied her undone face. How did Miss Goody-Two-Shoes walk around like this? Make-up was definitely in order. She tied her healing pouch on to a loop in her jeans, then fastened her robes. She grabbed her books, and tucked her wand into her pocket, end out for fast access. Hopefully someone would be in the Common Room who she could get some make-up from.

When she walked down the stairs, she was surprised to see the Common Room nearly empty. In her world, everyone had to be at breakfast by seven. It wasn't that way here, and the Gryffindors slept in as long as possible, some even skipping breakfast. Only one person was down here.

Lavender Brown.

She was seated cross-legged on the floor, on a rug before the fireplace, eyes closed, arms out to the sides and slightly bent, the tips of her index and middle fingers touching. She was making a strange wailing noise.

Hermione walked up behind her, staring at her for a moment as she did her morning Universal Meditation, an activity designed to "open up her mind to hear the whispers of the universe." Professor Sybill Trelawney went through the same ritual each day, not that it helped her much.

Hermione fought the urge to kick Lavender over. What a wuss.

"Hey!" Hermione said loudly, making Lavender jump and look up at her strangely for a moment, before a smile crossed her face.

"Hi, other Hermione," the blonde said, rising.

"Yeah, hi," Hermione greeted her nominally, studying her face. Lavender wore make-up and was about her complexion. "Listen, do you have any make-up you can spare?"

"Sure, I do," Lavender said, delighted.

She'd been after the real Hermione to wear makeup since their fourth year, but the witch would never do it.

"Just let me run and get it . . . unless you want to come up?" she said to Hermione, who shook her head.

"I'll just wait here," Hermione replied. If she went up there, no doubt the twit would want to apply her make-up and chat her ears off.

Lavender returned with an armful of foundations, liners, lipsticks, mascaras, tweezers and more. She dumped them into Hermione's arms.

"Damn, did you give me everything you had?" the witch asked her.

"No. That's just extra. They aren't even open. I have loads of make-up. I kind of run my own little beauty parlor. You should come on our next girl's night. We make each other up, have cookies, talk about . . . boys . . ."

Here, Lavender giggled madly.

"Boys, eh? Nah, I'll pass, but thanks for the makeup," Hermione said, going back up the stairs and to her room. In five minutes, she was her attractive self again, letting out a satisfied sigh at the witch who looked back at her from the mirror.

"Welcome back, beautiful," she said, once again leaving her room and entering the Common Room. A few tousle-haired Gryffindors were in there now, but not one ready for breakfast. Even Lavender had been in her night gown with a housecoat over it.

In her world, Filch would have had an orgasm at all the students who would miss the seven o'clock breakfast bell. The dungeons would have been full of howls as he laid cane (and other things) to all those naked bottoms.

She passed through the Common Room, fending off greetings and exiting into the castle proper. It felt a bit odd walking along through the empty castle. She was used to having all her housemates with her since they left at the same time for protection. But what did she have to protect herself from here?

She got her answer when she walked down the marble staircase to the Entrance Hall. On her left emerged none other than Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle from the dungeon corridor. Everyone stopped, staring at each other, then Draco's gray eyes slowly drifted up the stairwell and scanned the landing to see if anyone else from Gryffindor house was around.

No. There wasn't a single one. His eyes narrowed as they rested on Hermione, who was looking at him with interest. There was a little nasty aura coming off the Pureblood that was rather attractive. By the proud way he stood, it was easy to see he thought a lot of himself.

"Your watchdogs Potter and Weasley aren't with you this morning, eh Granger?" he asked her, a bit of happy malice in his voice.

"Obviously not. You don't see them do you?" she responded a bit haughtily. "Besides, I know how to get from point A to point B without an escort."

She eyed Crabbe and Boyle, curled her lip and added, "What's your excuse?"

Draco looked at bit surprised at her answer.

"I don't need an excuse, you filthy Mudblood!" he spat at her with his usual malevolence.

"Well, you're nothing but an inbred Bloodbum," she responded coolly, shifting her body slightly so she faced the three scowling wizards full on.

"A WHAT?" Draco cried, incensed.

"A filthy Bloodbum, a wizard with two magical Pureblood parents," she explained. "You're a product of magical incest, and should talk to your betters with more respect. I'm Muggle-Born, you know, much higher on the magical scale than you are since both my parents are Muggles. That makes me the most powerful kind of witch there is."

Draco, Goyle and Crabbe looked at Hermione as if she'd gone stark, raving nutters. What the hell was she talking about?

"That's insane! You're insane! No one believes that!" he hissed at her, thrown completely for a loop. What made it worse was that Hermione was looking at him as if he were less than dirt, as if she really believed he was garbage.

It was . . . disconcerting.

"I don't care who believes what around here, Malfoy. What matters is what I believe, and I believe you and your entire Bloodbum family are trash," she said, grasping the handle of her wand.

Draco turned bright crimson at this declaration.

"How, how dare you!" he screamed at her, drawing his wand to hex her.

"Stupefy!" he cried as Hermione whirled, then struck him, Crabbe and Boyle in quick succession, blasting them back.

"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"

Then, she cast two binding spells on Goyle and Crabbe, tying them up so tightly, they were gasping. Then she walked toward Draco, who was scrambling for his wand. He just managed to grab it, then turned to find Hermione's wand at his throat.

She was looking at him curiously.

"I like you this way, Draco. You have attitude, and you're a really nasty piece of work, I can tell," she said to him, a bit of purr in her voice, as Draco looked at her with round eyes. "You're sneaky, ill-tempered, probably hex people when their backs are turned. Yeah, I can see you're just like that. A refreshing change from the bleeding-heart Draco I know. You're pretty shaggable this way . . . as a bad boy. I'd almost be tempted, but let's face it, you're a Pureblood without any power . . . so it would be a waste of my time.

She chucked her wand under his chin for emphasis.

"Now, listen to me, and listen good. I am not a victim. If you come after me again, I will hurt you . . . and badly. I don't care about detentions or points being taken. I will cut you into ribbons. I know the spells to do it and I don't care who sees me. Now, if you want to stay pretty, I suggest you leave me the fuck alone. I don't know how the other Hermione dealt with you, but I'm not the one to fuck with," she said to him softly.

Draco still stared at her, wondering if he were caught in some kind of sensate nightmare. He looked so confused, Hermione couldn't resist what she did next.

She shifted her wand to the side of his throat, leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth, her lips moving against his softly and sensually. The stunned wizard could do nothing but accept it, then, fall under her spell.

Hermione pulled back and licked her lips a little. Draco's gray eyes were still confused, but had a little heat in them as he stared back at the witch, now noticing the hair and make-up and how attractive she looked. Something was different about Granger . . . and it wasn't a bad thing at all.

"Tasty," she said to him softly. "Now, I'm going to lower my wand and go to breakfast. Don't let that kiss fool you. I'll leave nothing but a pile of ash if you fuck with me again, Draco Malfoy. First and last warning," she said, lowering her wand, turning and walking through the doors of the Great Hall, Draco staring after her, unable to comprehend just what the hell happened here.

Crabbe and Goyle lay bound, also looking confused. Granger had kissed Draco, and he wasn't throwing up. He was just standing there, looking after her. Finally, he turned to them and said.

"I don't know who the hell that is, but it's definitely not Granger."

* * *

Draco watched as Hermione ate her breakfast, more Gryffindors and other students drifting in. Harry and Ron sat down on either side of her and greeted her, but . . . she scowled at them, not looking at all happy to see them. And it seemed every single Gryffindor was just . . . staring at her. It was all so odd.

From the dais, Snape was watching the witch interact, or not interact rather with her housemates. She looked quite aggravated as they piled around her. Not that they were right on top of her, but she had all of their attention. She scowled down at her food.

Albus and Minerva were also watching the witch, noting she didn't look happy.

"I'm afraid Miss Granger isn't getting into the Gryffindor spirit," Albus said to Minerva.

"Give it some time, Albus," the witch replied. "They'll rub off on her. Everyone responds to kindness."

If Hermione could have heard that, she would have puked. Right now, she felt like hexing everyone around her. Then she remembered she could leave breakfast, and she did so, everyone asking her where she was going.

"To get some peace," she snapped back at them, hoisting her backpack on her shoulder and stalking away angrily. Draco watched her, shaking his head.

"I've got to tell someone about this," he said to himself, looking up at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore needed to know this Hermione Granger was an imposter.

Draco stared at Dumbledore with his mouth open. He had just been told the truth about this Hermione.

"She's a what?" he gasped at the wizard.

"She's a Slytherin from an alternate universe where Muggle-Borns are the favored of society. She came here because of a magical accident involving the Mirror of Erised," the wizard explained.

A Slytherin Granger? That was insane. But, it fit this witch. She certainly didn't act like those idiot Gryffindors.

Draco thought about that kiss and what she said about shagging him. Apparently, she wasn't virginal either.

"Why is she in Gryffindor if she's a Slytherin?" Draco asked Dumbledore, immediately setting out on his own agenda.

"Several reasons. The first being that there's bad blood between our Hermione and the Slytherins. Second, she's a Muggle-Born and there are no Muggle-Borns in Slytherin. And there are other reasons, such as she is familiar with her housemates in Gryffindor," the wizard told him. "And let's not forget, she doesn't have any respect for Purebloods."

Draco didn't care about that. This Hermione was hot. He wanted a chance at her.

"But, if she's Slytherin, she's going to hate Gryffindor, Headmaster," Draco said.

Albus shrugged.

"We all have to deal with unfortunate situations, Draco," the Headmaster told him. "Until Miss Granger can return to her own world, she will reside in Gryffindor."

Draco frowned.

"I don't think she's going to last there, Headmaster," he told him.

"She has to, Draco," Albus replied. "She has no choice."

Draco left Albus' office, deep in thought. He had a lot of pull in Slytherin house because of his bloodline and his father's wealth. He was the cream of Slytherin, and knew how to pull his housemates' strings. But before he talked to them about anything, he'd need to talk to Snape first, and find out how he'd feel about having a witch traditionally considered Gryffindor in Slytherin House.

Hopefully, the Potions Master would see reason.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	12. Draco Makes a Move

**Chapter 12 Draco Makes a Move**

As Hermione left Snape's classroom on her way to supper, Draco Malfoy was waiting outside the classroom for her. He was in the same class and when he saw the witch get in line for extra credit with Snape, he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong here. No Slytherin had ever gone for extra credit with the Gryffindor head of house. It just wasn't done.

But yet, Granger had done it.

"Hey Granger," he said to her as she exited the class.

Hermione stopped and looked at him.

"What do you want, Draco?" she asked him, "I've got to get to supper. I don't feel like being leashed for lateness."

She continued walking and Draco fell in beside her, looking at her in amazement.

"What?" Hermione said to him as he stared, keeping in step.

"You never greet me like this. Usually, you tell me 'fuck off, Malfoy.' You never use my name, and you'd never let me walk with you. What's going on, Granger? Did you just sign up for extra credit with Snape?" he asked her.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Hermione said, speeding up.

Draco kept up with her, grinning slightly.

"Not enough malice, Granger. That wasn't from the heart. Now, what gives? I see you're getting the cold shoulder from everyone, even your boy-toys Potter and Weasley. They're usual on your heels like guard dogs. They aren't even talking to you. No one is. And that's strange. It's like they're ostracizing you. And you not hexing me by now is totally out of character," he said to the witch.

Hermione sighed.

"Look, Draco, things are different, all right? Just . . . different," she said.

"I'll say. I can't believe you're being civil to me. Usually you wouldn't be caught dead talking to a Pureblood not in Slytherin, like Weasley," he said to her. "You don't even feel evil. Normally, you give off a very dangerous vibe. But I don't feel anything negative at all."

"That's because I'm not evil, all right? I'm . . . I'm not the Hermione you think I am. Listen, we're coming to the landing now, and I don't want to be seen talking to you, because . . . well the real Hermione wouldn't and I'm trying to fit in. Ask your Head of House, Professor Snape about me. He knows what's going on. Now, please, leave me alone," Hermione told him.

Draco hung back as she walked on to the first floor landing and down the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

What did she mean, the "real" Hermione? Was she someone else? She seemed to be. There was no way the Hermione he knew would walk and talk with him under any circumstances. She thought he was scum.

Draco turned back. He knew he had to be at supper, but he wanted to talk to professor Snape immediately. He could always get a pass from him to keep from being leashed or caned. He met the wizard walking up the corridor.

"Mr. Malfoy, you only have two minutes to get to supper. What are you doing still here?" the wizard asked him.

"I wanted to ask you about Granger. She told me you knew her . . . her situation. She's been acting strangely and so has all of Slytherin house. It's like she's being shunned," he said to Snape, who shook his head.

"That's not the Miss Granger you know, Mr. Malfoy. She's . . . she's from an alternate universe. There was a magical accident involving the Mirror of Noisreva, and she switched places with the Hermione Granger we're familiar with. She's a Gryffindor."

Draco's eyes went wide as saucers as Snape pulled a pen and a bit of parchment out of his inner robes' pocket and scribbled him out a note to get into the Great Hall sans a torture session.

"A Gryffindor? Why is she in Slytherin House then?" he asked.

"That's where the Headmaster put her," Snape replied.

"But . . . but she doesn't belong there. If she's a Gryffindor, she should be in our house," Draco said.

"I feel the same way, Mr. Malfoy, but there's very little we can do about it," Snape told him, handing him the pass. "It's just the way things are until she returns to her world."

"It doesn't seem right, Professor. A Gryffindor in Slytherin. They could hurt her. Parvati already tried to poison her this morning at breakfast. If not for Weasley, she'd be dead now," Draco replied, frowning.

"I think she'll be safe enough. They won't be able to get their own Hermione back if anything happens to her," Snape said.

"Only the ones who like her will want her back. She has a lot of enemies, sir, and not just in Slytherin. There's a couple of Ravenclaws who owe her, maybe even a couple of Hufflepuffs. Can't you do anything?"

Snape studied him.

"You've got wood for Miss Granger, don't you Draco?" he asked the Gryffindor, who colored.

"Since forever, Professor. I know this Hermione isn't that one, but . . . she's more accessible. I'm willing to take a substitution," the wizard said.

Snape shook his head.

"You know, Mr. Malfoy, I believe you have a touch of Slytherin in you, despite your bloodline. That is not the way we act in Gryffindor," he chastised him. "Now, get to supper and no more about Miss Granger."

Draco looked sullen.

"Won't you try to do something, Professor? Despite me liking her, she still needs to be in her own house," he said to the wizard.

Snape studied him.

"We'll see," he replied, frowning slightly. "Let me think about it a bit."

Draco walked off, heading down the stairs and hurrying to the Great Hall. Filch opened the door with a wicked smile, but Draco held up the pass and the wizard snatched it out of his hand, scowling blackly as he read it, then looked toward Snape, who walked past and headed down the corridor that led to the teacher's entrance.

As he walked, he idly thought about Draco's infatuation with the untouchable Hermione Granger, and the resulting attraction to her counterpart. He didn't blame him really.

Snape knew just how he felt.

Filch let out a growl at the blonde wizard and crumpled his pass in his gnarled hand.

"Come in, then," he snarled, disappointed his ass wouldn't be manacled to the wall.

As Draco sat down at the table next to Crabbe and Goyle, who were already stuffing their faces, he looked over toward the Slytherin table at Hermione's back. She had plenty of space on either side of her, and had her plate tucked very close to her body as she ate.

Apparently, she'd learned something this morning.

As she ate, Hermione was thinking and thinking hard. Neither Professor McGonagall nor Tom Riddle had said anything further about her getting back to her own world. It didn't take her long to figure out that she needed access to the Mirror of Noisreva. Possibly, her counterpart had figured that out too, and would be trying to get through herself. But they needed to both be in the mirror at the same time.

The easiest way to accomplish that would be to have the mirror placed in her bedroom, where they would both retire to at night. It should be an easy matter to recreate the situation that caused the exchange in the first place. She would ask professor McGonagall about making the arrangements right after she met with professor Snape.

Hermione was right that nothing had been done. And purposely so. Her tale had sparked the Headmaster's curiosity about her world and his counterpart, Lord Voldemort, who he understood had several hundred witches and wizards at his beck and call. They were all Purebloods too, basically his slaves. Tom had a lot of power at Hogwarts, but not absolute power. He was wearying of his role as Headmaster, and he knew McGonagall would gladly disembowel him to take over the position, if she thought she could get away with it.

Hell, she could have the bloody job if he could find a better situation. He was also weary of fighting Lord Bedaubs Mule as well. His counterpart would get along with him just fine and run the wizarding world any way they liked. Join forces. Become fuck buddies. He didn't care. He wondered about the current Headmaster of Hogwarts and how he felt about the ongoing war. He bet the man was as weary as he was.

Hermione Granger would be an excellent pawn if he played his Snap right. He would help her get back, but only if she carried a message from him to her version of Albus Dumbledore. A message and a plan, otherwise, he would destroy the Mirror of Noisreva, and Hermione would remain in this universe until the day she died.

Tom Riddle certainly knew how to create incentive.

* * *

Hermione spoke to professor McGonagall after supper, requesting her to ask Tom Riddle if the Mirror of Noisreva could be moved to her private room.

"Ready to leave us so soon, Miss Granger?" Minerva purred at her, her dark eyes washing over the witch. She looked so much like her Hermione, the one she engaged from time to time.

"Yes, I am. I'm not welcome here, and I'm sure you're aware of that. I'm not a Slytherin and someone in this house hates me enough to want to see me dead," Hermione said to the witch, who flicked a hand at her carelessly.

"We all need a bit of challenge in our lives, Miss Granger, it makes them . . . sweeter," the witch purred.

"Mine is sweet enough without extra death threats. I have enough where I come from, believe me. But will you ask him?" Hermione requested again.

"Yes, I'll ask him," Minerva replied.

"Good," Hermione said rising, pulling out a pass, "now I have to go. I have an appointment for extra credit with Professor Snape."

Minerva sat up straight in her chair.

"You have an appointment with . . . with Professor Snape for extra credit, Miss Granger?" the witch asked her.

"Yes, that's what I said. Why?" Hermione asked back.

"Oh. I was just wondering if he divulged the nature of the extra credit work you would be doing?" Minerva asked.

"Ah, no. He just told me my mark would be based on what I decided to do. He said some assignments are as short as five minutes, and others can take up to an hour. I imagine the longer it takes the more credit you get," Hermione said.

Minerva smirked.

"Yes, it works something like that. Now, run along, Miss Granger," she said with a smile that rather disturbed Hermione. It looked quite predatory.

Hermione left Minerva's office.

"Work hard!" the Potions mistress called after her, then broke out in cackling witch's laughter.

"Oh, would I like to be a fly on the wall when he hands her the 'extra credit list,' she chuckled.

* * *

Hermione made her way down up to the Entrance Hall. Of course, Filch popped out of nowhere, but . . . she had a pass.

"Damn that Snape. He's been spoiling my fun all day," the wizard snarked, hobbling off to see if the hunting was better in the dungeons.

She ascended the marble stairs and walked down the first floor corridor to the Transfiguration classroom. Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, waiting for her. He stood up when she entered.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I thought you might have changed your mind about the extra credit," he said to the witch.

"No sir," Hermione replied, entering the classroom and walking up to the desk, "I told you I wanted to bring up my counterpart's marks. I haven't changed my mind about that."

Snape studied her for a moment.

"Very well, Miss Granger . . . if you would just follow me," he said, walking around the desk and past her. Hermione looked after him, puzzled.

"Where are we going?" she asked the wizard.

"Extra credit work isn't done in the classroom, Miss Granger. There is another more comfortable area, one with the proper . . . accouterments," he responded.

"Oh. All right, then," Hermione said, following him out of the classroom and to his office. She looked around.

"There aren't any desks here," she said to him.

Desk? She wanted to do it on a desk? Hm. Maybe she had a schoolgirl fantasy. He could accommodate her, definitely, since he also had a schoolgirl fantasy, involving one Hermione Granger.

"A desk can be arranged," he said, pulling on a torch. The wall on the right side of his desk slid up.

He gestured to the opening.

"After you, Miss Granger," he said.

Hermione hesitated then walked through, followed by the wizard.

* * *

  
A/N: Okay, now we have two discontented individuals in this story. Our Snape and the alternate Tom Riddle. Interesting. Oh Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. Shouldn't your spider sense be tingling or something? Lololol. Thanks for reading


	13. Extra Credit

**Chapter 13 Extra Credit**

Hermione entered professor Snape's private study. He had a large library, set in recessed shelving around the walls. Lush, scarlet shag carpet covered the stone floor. Two richly upholstered scarlet and gold chairs rested in front of the fireplace, and a large sofa, recliner and ottoman were also in evidence. A tasteful, yet erotic painting of a man and woman entwined hung over the fireplace, clearly in the throes of climax. Satyr and nymph statues rested on the mantelpiece. There was a door leading to his bedroom and another door which was closed.

Snape studied the witch as she looked around the room, rather perplexed, then walked over to the ornate mahogany writing desk in the corner and picked up a laminated parchment. Hermione spun and looked at him as he approached with the parchment outstretched.

"This doesn't look conducive to extra credit, Professor," Hermione said to him.

He gestured to the closed door.

"Extra credit is usually carried out in that room depending on what you select. You did say you wanted a desk," he said, handing her the parchment. "It can be arranged. This is a list of the types of extra credit that can be performed and their point value. You can select which you would like to do."

"Oh, that's helpful," Hermione said, looking down at the parchment.

Suddenly her eyes rounded and she looked up at the professor.

"What is this?" she cried in shock.

"The extra credit list," Snape responded, looking a bit perplexed.

"But . . . but this isn't class work! It's a list of . . . of sexual acts!"

"That's right," Snape said as if this were quite normal. But as Hermione stared at him in horror, he realized that she hadn't known that extra credit involved intimacy. He pinched his nose.

"I should've known Tom and Minerva wouldn't tell you about this," he said to the witch apologetically. "They have a very warped sense of humor. In our world, sex in exchange for points is acceptable, since it isn't time consuming and rather pleasurable. This way, we have no extra paperwork and the students aren't forced to spend free time in study."

"It's unconscionable!" Hermione spluttered.

"It works for us, Miss Granger," Snape replied. "We have quite an open society here with the exception of how Purebloods are treated. Sex is considered an enjoyable diversion and interaction is encouraged. Few things are as satisfying as a good sexual experience. It is an excellent stress reliever as well."

Well, Hermione was feeling quite stressed. Then, she thought about something.

"What about wizards? I mean, all right, I can see this working with witches, but . . . what do wizards do for extra credit?" she asked him.

"Why, they have the same options," Snape replied, looking at her oddly. "Why would there be any difference?"

Hermione blinked at him.

"You mean, you . . . you engage wizards as well?" she asked him incredulously.

"Of course I do," Snape responded.

Hermione turned scarlet.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her, understanding.

"Oh. You're a Het, aren't you?" he asked her.

"A Het?" she responded.

"Yes. A Heterosexual. You only engage the opposite sex," he said to her coolly.

"Yes! Of course I am," she responded. The way he said it bothered her.

"Ah, I see. Well, that type of lifestyle isn't . . . considered normal in our society. Neither is homosexuality. Gays and Lesbians are also looked down upon because they only engage with partners of their own sex. Bisexuality is considered the norm. Pleasure can be found with both sexes and it is considered a prejudice of the worst kind to prefer one sex over the other. But there will always be bigots."

"What? I'm not a bigot. I just prefer males," Hermione said, then altered her statement. "I mean . . . when . . . when I finally have sex it will be with a male."

Snape looked at her rather incredulously.

"You're still a virgin?" he asked her, and Hermione blushed.

"Yes, I am," she said softly, "and I don't plan to lose my virginity just because I'd like a better mark in Advanced Transfiguration."

"Your counterpart is very sexually active," Snape informed her, then sighed. "Except with me, which is why her marks are so low in my class. She won't let me touch her, because I am the Head of Gryffindor. In fact, all the Slytherins have barely passing marks in my class."

Hermione took this in, then her eyes rounded.

"She has perfect marks in Potions," Hermione gasped.

Snape nodded.

"Miss Granger and Minerva have been lovers for years. She's done well in that class since she became the age of consent three years ago. In fact, all grades improve around the fifth year. Most students just muddle through until then."

Hermione turned green. Minerva McGonagall had sex with her counterpart. Oh, Merlin! No wonder she felt so uncomfortable around her. And no wonder she seemed so delighted when she heard she was going to professor Snape for extra credit. Maybe she thought . . . oh gods!

Hermione felt nauseous.

"Can I sit down?" Hermione rasped at Snape, who looked alarmed. She looked like she was going to throw up all over his shag carpet.

"Sit here," he said, guiding her to the recliner and hurrying to grab a wastepaper basket from alongside his desk and handing it to her.

"Make sure you hit that if you vomit," he said to the witch. "I'll get you some water and a Calming draught."

Hermione watched the wizard walk into his bedroom, then heard water running and a cabinet open. He reappeared with a glass of water and a bottle.

"Here you go," the wizard said, handing her the draught first. Hermione opened it and sniffed it suspiciously. Snape frowned at her.

"Thinking I might slip you a lust potion, Miss Granger?" he asked her, displeasure in his eyes.

Hermione looked up at him.

"This is a very different world, with very different rules, professor. I'm just being careful," she responded, then took a sip of the potion, followed by drinking down the water.

"I suppose my being a Gryffindor doesn't matter in the least," he said to her, taking the potion and glass back.

"You're a Gryffindor, but possibly not the kind of Gryffindor I'm used to," she told him honestly.

She watched as he returned to his bedroom and put the glass and potion away. When he returned, he sat down on the ottoman and looked her in her eyes.

"Miss Granger, you need to realize something. You are out of your element here more than you know. You are a Gryffindor in a house full of Slytherins, in a school run by Slytherins. None of the professors who know your true affiliations will assist you if you find yourself in trouble. Despite you being a Muggle-Born, you are still associated with Gryffindor. If you need a champion, the only one who would be willing to stand up for you . . . would be me. If I were not a Gryffindor, my aid would come at a price . . ."

"A price I wouldn't be willing to pay," Hermione told him.

Snape blinked at her.

"After the first or second incident, Miss Granger . . . that wouldn't be true, believe me," he said to her darkly. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a jungle, full of predators. Someone of your background can easily be swallowed down. Our Miss Granger is far more suited to survive in your world than you are in ours. You need an ally, Miss Granger, and although I don't require anything of you . . . I would at least like to be appreciated and treated with some trust and respect. I get enough disdain from your counterpart. If you had gone to any teacher other than me for extra credit, and balked, you would be restrained and flat on your back by now, whether you wanted to be or not. Once you enter the chambers of a teacher, for that hour, you belong to them. By making an appointment, by the rules of the school, you are bound to deliver, and each teacher has to report what the extra credit entailed."

"What do you mean, bound to deliver? I didn't know anything about these so-called 'rules!'" Hermione hissed at him.

"Ignorance is no excuse, Miss Granger. As a student of Hogwarts, especially in your seventh year, you are expected to know the rules. I am sure the Headmaster is not going to make a special dispensation in your case. And I am bound to take 100 points from you for not doing your extra credit."

"What? You're going to penalize me for not following through on my extra credit?" she asked him.

"It's not something I want to do, but am required to do, Miss Granger. I am a staff member of Hogwarts and have a duty to the school. I will not be derelict in my duty," Snape told her.

"My housemates are going to kill me!" Hermione said to him.

"An attempt or two on your life might be possible," Snape agreed. "Or at least a trip to the infirmary, which might be worse than dying. In either case, welcome to the jungle, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked at him, her brown eyes pleading now.

"Won't you help me? Please? I really didn't know what you expected of me when I made that appointment. I was set up. Professor, if you are a Gryffindor deep down inside, you will help me," she said to him desperately.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her.

"Are you attempting to use guilt on me, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

"No. I'm just trying to appeal to your better side," she replied. "Gryffindors hate unfairness."

Snape nodded.

"Yes, we do. But don't you think it a bit unfair that I looked forward to engaging you, only to have the magic carpet pulled out from under my feet?" he asked her. "As I told you, our Miss Granger will not engage me, which makes her even more desirable to me. You are not her, but a reasonable enough facsimile to have made our engagement extremely satisfying and you an excellent substitute. But, I don't even have that now."

"But I didn't know," Hermione said again. "If I had known, I would have never made that appointment with you."

"As I said before, Miss Granger, ignorance is no excuse."

Hermione stared at him for several moments before her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh no," Snape moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not the waterworks."

Hermione began to cry, which made it worse.

Snape stood up and started pacing, stopping from time to time to look at the sobbing witch. Finally, he pulled a handkerchief out of his inner robes pocket and handed it to her.

"Stop crying," he said as she wiped her eyes with his handkerchief. "Turn the parchment over."

Sniffing, Hermione did so.

"There are lesser extra credit choices on that side. I thought you were interested in gaining a larger number of points. As you can see, the selection is much tamer."

Hermione looked at the list.

A simple closed-mouth kiss was worth half a point on her next grade. A French kiss was worth three points. With light petting, five points. The list went on to describe how many points heavy petting and a number of other lesser sex acts were worth. It could be upped by twenty points if the acts were performed while nude. The final act on that side was a hand job for thirty points. The most points that could be earned was fifty, with the additional twenty for nakedness.

"So are you interested in doing something less involved?" Snape asked her.

Hermione looked at the list. A half-point certainly wasn't much for a kiss. But then again, a kiss was next to nothing sex-wise. Not really even worth the effort. But a French kiss was worth three points. That wasn't much either. But doing either would keep her from losing one hundred points and probably a trip to the evil Poppy, courtesy of her housemates.

"A kiss?" she ventured.

"Closed or open-mouthed?" Snape asked.

Hermione studied the list. Half a point?

"I'm not sure. How long does the kiss have to last?" she asked him.

"Thirty seconds at least," the wizard replied, his eyes resting on her mouth.

Shit. That was a long time for a few lousy points. But . . . she had to do something.

"All right. A closed-mouth kiss," she said to him.

Snape nodded and motioned for her to stand. She did so, nervously.

The wizard tried to make Hermione more comfortable. He was a little excited. He had never laid a hand on a virgin before. True, it wasn't fucking, but it was different for him.

"Do you have much experience kissing?" he asked her.

"Well, I've kissed Ron before," she replied.

"Ronald Weasley?" Snape inquired.

Hermione nodded.

"I guess there's some similarities between your counterpart and you," he said softly.

"Not to her degree," Hermione snapped, remembering both Harry and Ron showing up buck naked in her bedroom.

Snape chuckled.

"I imagine not, being you're still 'pure,'" he responded, then opened his arms. "Whenever you're ready."

Hermione looked up at him. He looked so much like her professor Snape, but so unlike him. There was no anger or darkness to this Snape, and he was attractive in his way. She drew a deep breath and stepped into him, closing her eyes.

She felt him embrace her very gently, holding her close but not in a way that made her uncomfortable. Actually, she felt rather safe. She tilted her head back.

Snape studied her for moment, then gently lowered his lips to hers, kissing the witch tenderly, his lips moving against hers softly but sensually, the connection electric.

Hermione made a noise of surprise. His kiss was . . .was nice. Good actually. She felt warmth spreading over her body as she earned her "extra credit" from the wizard, kissing him back now. Snape felt her respond and continued kissing her, mentally counting off the seconds as her arms wrapped around his neck. He broke the kiss, pulling away from her mouth.

Hermione's brown eyes opened and she gazed up at the wizard in wonder.

"You've earned half a point," he said to the witch, not releasing her, because she hadn't released him, but continued to hold on.

"Do you think I could earn another one?" she asked him dreamily.

Snape smiled at her.

"Yes. You can earn as many as you like, Miss Granger," he responded, lowering his mouth to hers again.

* * *

A/N: Whoo hoo. Can I have another, Mr. Snape? Lol. Thanks for reading.


	14. Two Disturbing Encounters

**Chapter 14 Two Disturbing Encounters**

By the time Hermione left professor Snape's office, she'd racked up a respectable sixty-seven points, gaining a little extra for light petting. The witch nearly floated back to Slytherin, her attitude about extra credit forever changed . . . at least concerning professor Snape. Flitwick, Minerva and the rest of them could forget it. There was no way she'd be racking up any points with any of them.

As she walked down the marble stairs, she saw this universe's version of Luna Lovegood walking toward her. She was wearing a Hufflepuff tie, but looked as dreamy-eyed as she did in the other world. Luna stopped by the stairs when she saw Hermione coming down.

"Hi Luna," she said to the witch when she made it to the main floor.

Instead of answering her, Luna walked up to her and kissed her on the mouth before attempting to slip her tongue into it.

Shocked and spluttering, Hermione jerked back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Luna! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione yelled at her, outraged and seriously squicked.

Luna gave her a small smile.

"I know I didn't ask your permission, Hermione, but it's been so long since I've kissed you, I didn't think you'd mind if I broke the rules just this once. You can spank me if you want," she said softly, trailing a finger down Hermione's arm.

"What? Spank you? Luna, are you insane?" she gasped.

"If by insane, you mean crazy for you, Hermione, you know I am," she replied. "When are you going to see me again? I know it's supposed to be a secret, but . . . I can't help thinking about you."

Luna was a Pureblood that the alternate Hermione had a secret weakness for. She found the blonde witch fascinating in a strange kind of way, and she was properly submissive and liked to be dominated. Right up Miss Granger's alley.

Hermione quickly discerned her counterpart's tastes obviously applied to more than teachers and Ron and Harry. Luna looked completely smitten as she stared at her.

"Um, Luna . . . I'm not who you think I am," Hermione said to her gently, removing her roaming fingertips from her arm.

"That's what I like about you," Luna breathed with a slight, sad smile.

"No. I mean I'm really not. There was an . . . an accident with the mirror of Noisreva . . ."

Hermione tried to explain what happened to Luna, who stared at her blankly for several moments after she finished.

"No, you're not her. She wouldn't have taken the time to try to explain anything to me," the witch said. "Will she be back soon?"

"I hope so," Hermione said.

Luna studied her.

"You're not even a Slytherin," she said.

"No, I'm not," Hermione admitted. "But I have to get to Slytherin house."

Hermione started to walk down the stairs leading to the dungeon area when she was blasted in the back with a stunner and knocked unconscious, tumbling down the short flight of stairs and landing on the hard stone floor. Luna walked to the head of the stairway and looked down at her, completely unaffected by her state.

"Counterpart or not, you shouldn't fool people into kissing you," she said softly, then headed back down the other flight of stairs that led to Hufflepuff house.

Hermione lay at the bottom of the stairs undiscovered for about forty-five minutes before she was found by Filch.

The wizard couldn't believe his luck.

"Hmmm. Out after curfew," he said, rolling her over and noting the bruise on her temple. He considered taking her to Poppy, but decided to fix her bruise and take her to the torture room instead. Why should the medi-witch have all the enjoyment. He picked Hermione up and slung her over his humped shoulder. Filch was old, but he was strong as a troll.

"This won't take too long, Missy. For all I know you were on your way to Slytherin before curfew and got hexed. But, that's no excuse. You should have been vigilant. A few stripes on your round little bum ought to make you pay better attention," he breathed, hobbling away with her.

Draco, who was the prefect for Gryffindor house, mounted the shifting stairwells and made his way down to the main hall. He preferred to start at the bottom and get patrolling the dungeons out of the way. That's usually where the Slytherins tried to ambush him, preferring to stay close to their house for faster getaways. They were always disillusioned, so he couldn't write them up unless he managed to hex a couple first. After that, patrolling the rest of the castle was a breeze.

As he rode the stairwell, he looked down to see Filch carrying someone on his shoulder. He'd caught another one. Somebody's ass was going to be sore tomorrow. Curiously, Draco craned his head just as Filch turned to descend the stairwell Luna had walked down earlier. His torture room was located on that side of the dungeon area, near the kitchens under the Great Hall. Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise as he saw Hermione's profile. She was unconscious.

"Shit!" Draco breathed, now rushing down the stairwell and jumping on to the next set of shifting stairs, trying to get to the first floor and Snape's office. He wouldn't be able to stop Filch himself because he was a staff member.

He impatiently waited for the next set of stairs to shift. They seemed to take forever, while Filch never did. He'd have Hermione manacled to the wall, robes pinned up and knickers down in no time.

Finally he made it to the second floor, ran down the corridor, down the narrow set of stairs that led to the first floor and tore toward Snape's office, hoping the wizard wasn't engaged with a student.

Hermione Granger was in trouble.

Big trouble.

* * *

Filch placed the unconscious Hermione in a chair for a moment to catch his breath. They were in a big circular room. Several sets of manacles were attached to the wall. A table was next to the chair, an on it rested several canes of differing sizes, ranging from thin to thick. After a moment or two, he wrestled Hermione out of the chair, and half dragged her to the wall, lifting first one arm, then the other, fastening her into the manacles. He pulled out his wand.

"Ennervate," he hissed.

Hermione awoke, groggily at first, her face resting against cold stone.

"What . . .what happened?" she groaned.

"You were out after curfew, Miss Granger. That's a mandatory caning," Filch replied with a snaggle-toothed grin.

"What?" Hermione cried, realizing she was manacled facing the wall. She jerked at her restraints, but they were secure. "Let me go!"

"Ah! A protestor! I like that, I do," Filch grinned as Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes falling on the table of canes. "Protesters usually make a lot of noise when they get their whacks."

"But . . . but I was on my way back to Slytherin house before curfew," Hermione protested. "I . . . I think I was hexed by Luna Lovegood!"

"Oh ho! A snitch as well. That just earned you another five lashes," Filch said, placing his wand on the table, then removing his robes and revealing a dingy gray shirt and worn black trousers beneath. He pulled on a pair of thin, black leather gloves.

What? She wasn't supposed to tell who hexed her? Dear gods, what kind of place was this?"

Filch picked up his wand and divestoed her robes, then her jeans, leaving her in white cotton knickers. His face screwed up. He much preferred thongs on a witch.

"Hard to believe you're in Slytherin house wearing knickers like those," he said, looking over his canes. "You've got a rather plump bottom. Hmmm. I think mid-sized ought to do the job. Now, let's lower those bloomers and see the moon rise."

"No!" Hermione yelled, twisting in the manacles, then kicking her legs back at the wizard.

"Oh, trying to kick me, eh? That's another five lashes," Filch said with a delighted grin. "Twenty in all. Oh, my, my. You're in for it now."

Filch picked up his wand and hit Hermione's legs with a locking spell so she couldn't kick. He put the wand back on the table.

"All right," Filch said, drooling a bit as he approached Hermione, one arthritic hand reaching for the elastic of her knickers.

"Moonrise," he breathed, yanking them down and eyeing her full firm flesh. He tapped a buttock with the tip of the cane, and it jiggled.

"I'd like an order of chips with that shake," he breathed, stepping back and focusing.

He wanted the first stroke to land juuust right.

* * *

"Are you sure it was Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked him as they hurried down the marble staircase two steps at a time. Snape was tucking his shirt into his trousers, zipping up his fly and fastening his belt buckle. He had been in the process of receiving quite a nice blow job from a sixth-year wizard when Draco pounded on his office door.

He had to reschedule.

"Yes sir. I saw her clearly. She was unconscious," the blonde wizard replied as they headed down the stairwell that led to Filch's torture room at a run.

Snape skidded to a stop in front of the door and pounded on him, Draco standing behind him breathlessly.

Filch lowered his hand in aggravation.

"Don't go anywhere," he said to Hermione, putting the cane down on the table and removing his gloves in irritation.

"It never fails," he muttered as he walked through the small door into the "receiving" area. "Just as I'm warming up, I get interrupted. I should make up a punishment for that."

Still muttering to himself, he pulled the door open, frowning blackly and met the narrowed eyes of Severus Snape.

"Yes, professor?" Filch asked, "What do you want?"

"You have a student here, Argus. Hermione Granger," he said to the wizard with a frown.

"Yes, I do. She was caught out after curfew," Filch said, his rheumy eyes flicking toward Draco for a moment. The seventh-year looked as if he wanted to hex him. "What's it to you?"

"I have it on good authority that she was unconscious when you found her," Snape continued.

"You mean when I caught her. It makes no difference. Out after curfew is out after curfew. There's no half measures about it. Ten lashes of the cane. Actually . . "

Filch rubbed his hands together delightedly.

"She's earned herself twenty lashes, one for snitching and the other for trying to do me bodily harm," the wizard finished.

"Argus, you know that this Miss Granger isn't familiar with our rules," the professor said, hoping to appeal to Filch's better side.

Unfortunately, Filch had no better side.

"More of a reason to cane her. Nothing teaches rules better than a good caning. Anyway, she's a Slytherin, Snape. You deal with Gryffindors. If anything, Minerva should be here, not you."

"I have an interest, because in her world . . . she's a Gryffindor."

"Too bad she's not in her world. Now, if you don't mind, I have a caning to apply," Filch said, starting to close the door in the wizard's face.

Snape caught it.

"I'll . . . I'll take her place," the wizard said.

Both Draco's and Filch's mouths dropped open.

"A staff member can stand in for a student . . . any student. You know the rules, Filch," Snape said insistently.

"Yes, I know the rules . . . but no staff member's stood in for a student in over a hundred years," the wizard said, looking Snape over now.

"Well, I'm willing," Snape said, then turned to Draco.

"Go attend your rounds, Mr. Malfoy," he ordered.

Draco didn't move.

"But . . . but Professor," he protested.

"Go, Mr. Malfoy," he said again.

Draco stared at him, then turned and slowly walked up the hall. Snape looked back at Filch, who was smiling at him unpleasantly. Snape had cost him a couple of students this week with his handing out of passes. This would be nice payback.

"You'll have to take all twenty lashes," the wizard said.

"I know. Just release Miss Granger," Snape said.

"Fine. Come in," Filch said, backing up and turning to walk back into the other room.

Snape closed the door and followed him. When he entered, he saw Hermione manacled face first to the wall, dressed in her trainers, socks, knickers and a t-shirt.

"You've received a reprieve, Miss Granger," Filch said, picking up his wand and flicking it at her several times, replacing her jeans and robes, then removing the locking charm on her legs and the manacles on her wrists.

Hermione turned around, rubbing her wrists, then stopped as she saw professor Snape. She ran to him, clutching him tightly.

"He . . . he was going to cane me," she said to the wizard, clinging to him.

"I know. But, you can return to Slytherin house now. Watch for ambushes," he said.

Hermione released him and looked up into his sober eyes.

"Can you walk me part way?" she asked him, still trembling at her close call.

"No," Snape said, his eyes flicking toward Filch. "Mr. Filch and I have something to discuss. Keep your wand out and stay vigilant. Good night, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked from Snape to Filch and back again.

"All right, Professor, and thank you. I know you got me out of this," she said to him softly.

Snape didn't reply. He just watched as she left the room. Then he turned to Filch, who picked up his black gloves and said, "I'm going to enjoy this."

Snape said nothing, but walked toward the wall, loosing his belt as he did so.

Damn, if this didn't deserve a shag from Miss Granger, nothing did.

* * *

A/N: lolol. First Luna, then Filch. Poor Hermione and even poorer Snape. Getting his ass whooped. :snickers: I love this world. Heh, heh. Thanks for reading.


	15. Treatment

**Chapter 15 Treatment**

Potions mistress Minerva McGonagall was lounging in front of the fireplace. She was dressed in a sheer black nightgown and matching knickers. The witch was enjoying an aftersex Firewhiskey, having just sent her last extra credit student back to Ravenclaw, a very talented young seventh-year with black hair, blue eyes and a lot of ardor for making a better mark. He'd earned one hundred points on his next grade, and he really worked for it.

There was a knock on her office door.

"Oh, who is it now?" she griped, frowning and quickly downing her drink. She stood up and put on a black robe then glided to the far wall, opening it and entering her office, wand drawn. If it were a student, he or she could count on a hexing at least.

Minerva yanked the door open and saw Snape standing there with a pained look in his eyes.

"Severus? What the hell do you want at this hour?" Minerva said to him with a scowl.

"I . . . I need some healing potion, Minerva," he told her.

The witch immediately became interested.

"Why, what happened to you? Did it involve Miss Granger? One of my students informed me she was with you for three hours. So you finally managed to fuck one of my Slytherins. Well, technically she doesn't count, since she's really a . . . bleeding heart Gryffindor. Anyway, is your cock sore from all the activity?" she rattled on, opening the door and letting him in.

"It has nothing to do with my cock, Minerva. I was caned," he responded.

Minerva looked shocked and delighted.

"She caned you? Maybe she does belong in Slytherin," Minerva grinned.

Slowly, Severus moved into her office. He couldn't take a seat. His ass felt as if it were on fire.

"It wasn't Miss Granger, it was Filch," he replied, gripping her desk and leaning on it.

Both of Minerva's eyebrows rose.

"I know you go both ways, Severus, but really . . . Filch? What, does he give good head or something? He has a few gaps in his teeth . . . I guess gum action isn't half . . ."

"NO! It wasn't sexual. I took a caning in Miss Granger's place. Now, please . . . the healing potion?"

Minerva blinked at him, then started laughing.

"Gryffindors are bloody masochists as well as idiots. Why in the world would you take a caning for that witch, Severus? Are you insane?" Minerva asked him.

"Someone hexed her when she was returning to Slytherin house after her session with me, and Filch found her. He was going to punish her . . . and you know she's not used to such treatment, Minerva . .. "

Minerva shook her head unsympathetically.

"And you are?" she asked him pointedly.

"No, but I couldn't let her suffer like that," he responded.

Minerva looked as if she were going to throw up.

"I really don't see how you survive this school, Severus. When are you going to see you can't save the entire world? You should have let her take the caning. It's going to be all over the school tomorrow. Filch is going to sing caning you from the rafters. Everyone will know, and it's only going to add to your cupcake image. What's worse, is you crossed House lines. Miss Granger isn't even your charge."

"But she should be, Minerva, you know that. Despite who her counterpart in this world is, this Hermione Granger is a Gryffindor and should be in Gryffindor house," he said firmly.

Minerva shrugged.

"Take it up with Tom. Personally, I don't like her in Slytherin, because she lowers the wickedness curve. Someone's going to send her to Poppy anyway, and when they do, I won't be rescuing her. Shagging you has sullied Slytherin house. You know my Slytherins don't engage you. Miss Granger broke an unwritten rule going to you for extra credit and blemished the entire house of Slytherin."

"I'm considered a blemish?" Snape said to Minerva, still grimacing.

"Actually, more of a smear," the witch said with a nasty smirk, then walked past him, slapping him on his ass and making him curse as she headed down the short corridor.

"Come along and let me treat you. I hope at least you have a nice bottom," Minerva said billowing down to the potions stores.

Snape hobbled after her. Yes, he had a nice bottom . . . nice and striped.

After making a few comments about him now belonging in Tiger house, Minerva treated the angry red welts on his ass then sent him on his way.

"Filch really laid it on him," the witch thought as she returned to her private quarters. "I haven't seen him use the thick cane on anyone in years."

* * *

A scowling Hermione Granger sat in her private room in Gryffindor tower, staring at the Mirror of Erised standing against the far wall.

"Where the hell is she? I know she has to be in Slytherin by now," the witch griped, staring at her own reflection. She was wearing one of Hermione's long, unattractive, white cotton gowns, thinking the witch would be wearing one of her sexy gowns. She idly wondered if Harry and Ron had fucked her.

Probably not. The witch was such a goodie-two-shoes here, and Harry and Ron appeared to be just as nauseatingly good, that she doubted her counterpart became part of a meat sandwich. Her Harry and Ron could be a bit much when they got started. Both of them were freaks, mostly thanks to her.

If Hermione appeared in the mirror, Slytherin Hermione would have no problem hopping through. She missed her Hogwarts. Professor Snape was a fun distraction, but the only fun thing there was and she couldn't engage him twenty-four seven. And her housemates . . . dear gods. They did NOTHING remotely fun or wicked. It was like being in the middle of a movie about pod people. They looked all right, but were all wrong.

She stared at the mirror. Something was very, very wrong here. She just couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe with some thought she'd figure it out.

* * *

Severus Snape stood quietly off to the side, listening to his Slytherins argue among themselves. Draco had called a meeting to introduce the idea of Hermione coming to Slytherin house. To say his housemates were less than enthusiastic was an understatement.

"I don't want that Mudblood in our house, " Blaise Zabini, a tall black wizard with slanted eyes and high cheekbones growled. "I can't stand her."

The rest of the Slytherins muttered agreement.

"This Granger isn't that one," Draco replied. "This one's a real Slytherin. You should have seen her blast Crabbe and Goyle. She didn't hesitate one second. You know our Granger is soft and weak. Not this one. And we have that Dueling competition coming up. I don't think there's anyone faster in the school. We could use the points."

"What, you want us to take her in just because she's fast with a wand, Draco?" Pansy hissed at him. She didn't want Granger in Slytherin because she knew Draco had a crush on her, although he wouldn't admit it in a million years.

"Well, that's a reason . . . and just think . . . if she were here, then we could do all kinds of nasty little hexes on her. What goes on in Slytherin stays in Slytherin," he said to them.

This made all the Slytherins stop and consider. Granger had a lot of enemies in that house just because of who she was. Envy played a large part in it.

"She'd run right to Dumbledore. You know she's his pet," Blaise said, frowning.

"That's the other Granger. I'm telling you . . . this one's different. She doesn't even talk to the Gryffindors. Watch her tomorrow at meals. You'll see it for yourself. She even cold shoulders Potter and Weasley. Despite how she looks, she belongs with us. In her world, she's a Slytherin and she has Slytherin ways. We can't let her soak up all that Gryffindorness. It's . . . it's just cruel."

This was met with snorts of derision.

"And we care because?" Pansy said.

"Listen you dolts," Draco said, angry now, "it's worth it because it would piss off Gryffindor house to no end to know we had Granger. She makes a lot of points for them with her marks, not to mention she's supposed to be Harry's best friend. Oh, they'd be furious if we took her. The entire house. And what if she starts hexing them once she's here? Oh, that would be too rich. I bet she'd do it too."

The idea of pissing of Gryffindor house appealed to all the Slytherins.

"But . . . what if she gets cheeky?" Blaise said with a frown, his dark eyes shifting to professor Snape.

"She will not get any preferential treatment from me, Mr. Zabini," the dark wizard purred. "You will settle your differences among yourselves as you always do. I'll only get involved if any 'settling' requires intervention with Poppy."

Blaise gave him a dark grin and turned to Draco. He was going to blast Granger off her feet the first night she entered the Common Room.

"All right, Draco. I'm willing, but I still want to see how she acts tomorrow. If she's the way you say she is, then she can come here . . . if she wants to," the wizard said.

Once Blaise caved, everyone else followed suit, and the consensus was Hermione Granger could stay in Slytherin house if she were allowed to stay by the Headmaster.

Snape left the Common Room, thinking his Slytherins were going to be in for quite a surprise when they met "Miss Granger." No doubt hexes would fly, but he had a feeling the majority of the hexes would come from the witch's wand tip. He'd have to make it clear to her she couldn't just randomly damage his charges, just enough hexing to let them know she meant business.

He frowned slightly as he entered his quarters. It was easy to see Draco had other designs on the witch. Possibly, he hoped to shag her. But Draco was a Pureblood and the witch expressed nothing but contempt for "the inbreds" as she referred to them sometimes. Voldemort would find her very interesting for about five minutes if he knew about her. He'd really want to kill this proud version of the witch.

But then again, the wizard might find her brutal version of the universe very interesting, especially with his counterpart being Head of Hogwarts and Albus Dumbledore championing Pureblood rights.

Hm. Maybe Snape could use this information to his advantage. He hadn't had anything interesting to tell the Dark Lord in some time, and had the stripes to prove it. He'd give it some thought.

The wizard stripped down and got into bed, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. Miss Granger certainly was an uninhibited witch. Could she take a liking to Draco or her other housemates because they were dark like her? She might be able to get past their being Purebloods if they acted proper Slytherins. He frowned.

As much as Snape understood her sexual nature in theory, he wasn't a product of her world, but of this one, and as such, had a covetous nature. He didn't want her engaging other wizards. Witches? Well, he might be able to deal with that . . . even be willing to watch or join in . . . but wizards? No. He wasn't a man to share.

Maybe he could put a few added conditions on her coming to Slytherin house. Such as not engaging any of her male housemates. Yes, that was an idea . . . but would she honor it? Hm. He could make her take an oath. She was old enough for one to take hold.

He needed to talk to her before he talked to Dumbledore about changing her house.

Hopefully, he'd be able to lock the witch down.

* * *

Snape talked to Hermione very early the next morning and it didn't go well at all.

"I will get you into Slytherin under the condition that you won't engage any wizard but me," the Potions master told her, his arms folded as they stood in his office. He had retrieved her early from Gryffindor tower, knowing she set out very early because of her conditioning. He talked her into coming back to his office, saying it concerned her house status.

"What? I'm not going to agree to that, unlikely as it is I'd want to fuck some Pureblood," Hermione snapped back at him. "It's the principle of the thing. You're not going to control me. I'll stay in Gryffindor first, and our little sessions will be out the turret windows. You can go back to wanking, or screwing prostitutes, or whatever it is you do to get off. You're not the boss of me."

Snape stared at her, surprised at her response. But then again, this wasn't the Gryffindor Hermione Granger. This Miss Granger knew her worth as far as he was concerned.

Snape studied her. He didn't want to get cut off. He hadn't even fucked the witch yet . . . but oh . . . when he did . . .

"If I do this, I expect sex from you," Snape said softly and calmly. "Full penetration for as long as I can last. That includes buggering you."

Hermione shrugged.

"If you can get me out of the Cult of the Mindless Goody-Goodies, I'm willing to fuck, suck or whatever, Professor. Just don't try to control me, that's all I ask. We can have something good as long as I'm here," she told him candidly. "But don't get clingy. I don't do 'clingy.'"

Snape had to agree to her terms if he wanted access to her. It kind of stuck in his craw that he was being so blatantly manipulated, but Miss Hermione Granger was the best thing that had come into his life in a long, long time. He didn't want it to end now. Besides, it would be torture to see her and not be able to engage her. He was hooked and knew it. He wanted all he could get from the witch before she returned to her own world.

Hermione left Snape's office, just as Draco, Blaise and a few other Slytherins were walking up the hall on their way to breakfast.

"There's Granger," Blaise hissed, "Alone."

Draco nodded. "That's her all right. Our Granger would have had an escort. Potter or Weasley would have been down here with her. Snape must have talked to her."

"Well, I'm going to see what she's made of," Blaise growled.

"Go ahead," Draco said, thinking Blaise might not like what he found out.

The wizard picked up his pace, walking up until he was beside Hermione.

"What are you doing in the dungeons alone, Mudblood?" the wizard hissed at her.

Hermione looked at him sideways.

"Get away from me, you inbred git," she replied calmly.

Blaise swelled up in indignation.

"What did you call me, you bitch?" he snarled at her, drawing his wand.

But he was too slow. Hermione already had her wand out and blasted him, sending him flying into the wall and knocking him unconscious as the other Slytherins stared at her. Damn, she was fast.

Blaise slid down the wall in a crumpled heap. Hermione walked up to him, pointed her wand at his forehead and wrote the word "Bloodbum" on it in white so it would stand out. It would fade in a few hours but he wouldn't be able to remove it without going through great pain.

"I called you 'inbred,' you piece of trash," the witch said to him calmly, then looked down the hall at the other Slytherins, her brown eyes narrowed.

"Any of you want to defend this asshole's honor?" she asked them.

No one replied as they looked at her wide-eyed. She straightened, then cast a repelling spell around herself.

"I didn't think so. You're Slytherins all right," she said with a slight smile, then turned and headed up the dungeon hall as if everything was right with the world.

Blaise's housemates walked up to him, studying the word on his forehead.

"What's a BloodBum?" Pansy asked.

"It's an insult. The equivalent of calling a Muggle-born a Mudblood, except it applies to Purebloods. In her world we're looked down on for having two magical parents. It's like incest," he informed his housemates, who murmured in disbelief.

"She really believes she's better than we are?" a third year asked.

"As much as we believe we're better than she is, "Draco replied before Ennevating Blaise.

The wizard was furious.

"She hexed me!" he cried out.

Draco nodded.

"That's not all she did," the blonde wizard said as Pansy handed Blaise her compact. Blaise looked in it and scowled.

"BloodBum? What's that mean?" he asked, frowning at the writing. His face grew blacker when Draco told him, and he tried to Scourgify it off.

"Arrrgh!" he screamed.

Damn that hurt.

"I can't get it off," Blaise said angrily, wiping at it with his hand. Even that hurt.

A fellow black witch tried covering the words up with the foundation she carried. It worked for about ten seconds, then bled through. Blaise cursed.

"I'm going to Madam Pomfrey. I'm not walking around like this," he announced, storming off.

The rest of the Slytherins headed for breakfast, rather subdued.

Draco was right. This Hermione Granger was very different than the one they knew. And by her reaction to Blaise, she definitely belonged in Slytherin.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	16. Reactions

**Chapter 16 Reactions**

When Hermione walked to breakfast, she was surprised to be greeted with smiles from her Slytherin housemates as she sat down at the table. This time, no one moved away from her but actually crowded in.

"Good job, Hermione," Ron said to her, chewing on a piece of bacon.

Harry's green eyes studied her soberly.

"I don't think you did what you did on purpose. You're not that good," the boy-who-lived said in a dark voice. "But you're going to get the credit for it, despite shagging Snape."

"I didn't shag professor Snape," Hermione said to him as the other Slytherins looked at her curiously. "I only kissed him a few times."

"Ew. Gross," a few Slytherins muttered.

Apparently, even kissing Snape was greatly frowned upon.

"Still, he got caned for you, so you must have made some kind of impression on him. No one ever made him take stripes. Must be your goody-goody gene. You're still a Gryffindor after all, and Snape's lame enough to want to protect you even though you're in Slytherin," Harry said, looking rather disgusted before returning to his breakfast.

"Caned for me? What? Oh, no!" Hermione said, looking up at the dais. Snape was sitting there and all the teachers were looking at him mirthfully as he ate his breakfast. Students were laughing as well. What a fucking wuss. Gryffindor table was sullen and silent. They understood why their Head of house did what he did, but it was still a downer that the rest of the school considered him a laughing stock.

Tom Riddle was shaking his head as Filch recounted how he whipped the Transfiguration teacher's ass.

"I didn't spare the rod, let me tell you. You should have heard him howl, Headmaster . . . it was beautiful," Filch told him. "I hope I catch the girl again. Maybe he'll give a repeat performance."

Then Minerva, who was sitting on the other side of Tom, told him how bad the welts had been, although Filch didn't break the skin. He nearly did however.

"Severus Snape is a sentimental idiot, hardly suited for his position. A decent teacher would have at least demanded redress from the witch. And her extra credit work was actually pitiful and time consuming. Kisses. Can you believe it?" Tom groused.

Minerva's eyes narrowed.

"When are you going to actively work on sending her back, Tom? She really doesn't belong here. Just watching her mimick our Miss Granger makes me sick to my stomach, particularly since she's engaged Snape. I want our Hermione back," the Potions mistress said.

Tom looked down at Hermione, who was eating with one arm curled protectively around her bowl of porridge.

"I plan to do it shortly. I'm just working on some details," the wizard replied obliquely. "Unlike Snape, I'm a wizard that sets conditions. She wants to go home, so I've no doubt she'll accept them."

"Conditions, Tom? Are you sure that's . . . smart?" Minerva asked him.

Tom looked at her calmly with his black eyes, then suddenly pulled his wand.

"Cruc!" he snarled, hitting her with the reduced Cruciatus Curse commonly used in their world.

Minerva shrieked and shuddered in her seat, the students and staff watching as their Headmaster applied correction. Finally, he released her, and the witch sunk down in her chair, wracked with pain.

"Never, ever question my judgment, Minerva," Tom said to her softly. "You forget yourself."

"Yes, H . . H . . . Headmaster," Minerva gasped as the wizard returned to his meal.

The students started talking again as if nothing happened.

Hermione stared up at the dais in horror.

"He Crucio'd the Potions mistress and nobody says anything?" Hermione said out loud.

All the Slytherins looked at her in disgust and those on either side of her shifted away, leaving space again.

Bloody Gryffindor.

* * *

In Advanced Transfiguration, Hermione watched professor Snape closely. Slytherins were passing around drawing of him getting caned by Filch, with little word balloons of him crying and begging the wizard to stop, thick, pulsating stripes across his ass. The wizard heard the muted laughter but didn't do anything to stop it. After class, Hermione walked up to his desk. There was no line for extra credit today, proving that his own Gryffindors were too ashamed to engage him. The wizard looked up at her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked the witch, frowning slightly.

"You . . . you took my caning for me. Why didn't you say anything? I wouldn't have let you do it," Hermione said to him.

"That's precisely why I didn't tell you, Miss Granger. You would have interfered," he replied.

"Now, you're a laughingstock. I'm so sorry," she said to him softly.

"It's fine. I'm used to being maligned, Miss Granger. It's just the way things are," he responded.

Hermione couldn't help but think this Snape and the Snape in her world still had something in common, being reviled by others.

"I just feel so bad about it," the witch said, feeling helpless.

Snape sat back in his chair and frowned at her.

"You have no reason to feel bad about it, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't continue to harp on it. Eventually, the laughter will die down," he told her.

Hermione looked down at his schedule sheet. It was empty, some appointments with lines drawn through them . . . cancelled.

"You don't seem to have much extra credit lined up," she said to him quietly.

Snape looked down at the schedule.

"One of the side effects of taking your caning. My students have withdrawn for the moment, although things will pick up again in a couple of weeks, I'm sure," the Transfiguration teacher responded.

"Well, I could schedule again for more extra credit," she suggested. She really did feel like spending a snogging session with the wizard, particularly considering what he'd done for her and what he was going through.

Snape looked rather pained.

"Er . . . I would rather not, Miss Granger. I've been taking a bit of heat for spending hours with a student only kissing. The Headmaster considered it mismanagement of time and a way of cheating the system via repetition of the same act more times than necessary. So, I'm sorry but I can no longer schedule you for that," he informed the witch.

Hermione's heart sunk. Then she brightened.

"How about I visit you during your free time?" she said, then realized she shouldn't have suggested it by the shocked way Snape looked at her.

"Miss Granger! Teachers never engage students for their pleasure. Extra credit is one thing, but dalliances outside of educational advancement are grounds for being sacked or expelled! What you are suggesting would cost me my job!" he said to her severely.

Hermione blinked at him. She didn't know this.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest . . . " she said to the upset wizard.

"You obviously need to bone up on the rules, Miss Granger, and quickly," he snapped at her.

Now she had made the only ally she had in the school angry at her.

"I didn't mean it. Maybe . . . maybe we could do something other than kiss. Open-mouthed kissing with heavy petting maybe?" she said. He had caressed her lightly yesterday, and it had felt wonderful. Hermione had wanted to French kiss him, but he stuck to the activity she'd set in motion originally. And she was too shy to initiate more herself.

Snape shook his head.

"No, I don't think so, Miss Granger. I'm in for a bit of a sexual dry spell. Such an activity would only leave me frustrated. I'm just going to have to wait until a more open-minded and experienced student deigns to up his or her grade. It is better to go without than to go halfway."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, biting her lip.

"Could I see what you went through with Filch? By Legilimency?" she ventured.

"What purpose would that serve, Miss Granger? If you were your counterpart, I'd think you'd want to get off on my pain," he replied.

"I just want to see what you went through . . . how bad it was," she said to him.

"I'm sure Filch has made a number of Pensieves he's passed out to staff and likely certain students. You ought to be able to locate one easily, since you are the reason for my caning. Others would love to see your reaction," he said, his voice rather bitter.

"I don't want to see it because of that . . . I . . . I just want to know for myself what you went through. You did it for me, after all. I'd rather find out from you," she said, her eyes filling.

Dear gods. Not again.

"Fine. Just don't start bloody crying again," Snape snapped at her, angry she was manipulating him and that he was soft enough to fall for it.

Hermione sniffed, pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.

"Legilimens," she breathed, entering the wizard's mind.

She watched as he walked over to the wall, unbuckling his trousers. He wasn't manacled as he lowered his trousers, revealing a sparkling white pair of briefs, which he pulled down as well. He pulled up his white dress shirt and folded it over his head so it wouldn't be in the way.

Gods, his ass was so muscular and tight, and his thighs were strong. She could only slightly see his nads because of the way he was standing, and nothing of his cock as he bent slightly and pressed both palms against the wall.

Hermione watched as Filch chose the largest, heaviest cane and walked up behind the wizard with an evil smile, standing slightly to the side. He gripped it like a cricket bat.

"Here's one, Snape," the wizard hissed, swinging the cane across his buttocks hard. The professor's back flexed and he let out a groan. A long red welt stretched across both cheeks.

"Again!" Filch growled, bringing it down on his tight flesh again, lower this time, the wizard buckling in place. Then again, and again until Snape howled from the pain, and continuing howling as Filch tore across his flesh with heavy whacks. It was horrible. It was clear Filch meant for him to suffer. He would never have beaten a student the way he did Snape. There were limits with students. Not staff.

Hermione pulled out of his mind, tears falling from her eyes.

Snape groaned as they rolled down her cheeks..

"The only reason I let you in, Miss Granger was to avoid the tears," he told her, once again retrieving his handkerchief and handing it to the sobbing witch.

"That was so terrible . . . I had no idea he was so cruel to you," she gulped, trying to stem the tears.

"Cruel is Argus' middle name . . . or should be. But, I was treated by your Head of House now. The only hurt I feel is a bit of wounded pride. It will pass. It always does. Now, you'd best get to your next class," he said, writing her out a pass and handing it to her.

Hermione handed him back the handkerchief and stared down at him.

"You'd better go, Miss Granger. There's nothing more you can do, other than stay out of Filch's way. I'm not willing to stand in for you again," he said, starting to put his schedule away.

Hermione watched him open the top drawer of his desk and start to put the schedule in.

"Wait," she said. Snape froze in place, the parchment partially in the drawer.

"Take the schedule out, Professor. I want to schedule some extra credit . . . for tomorrow evening," she told him, her brown eyes glistening. "Something . . . something that won't leave you . . . frustrated."

Snape stared at her for a moment, then slowly returned the schedule to his desk. He picked up a quill and dipped it into the inkwell, shaking off the excess, then poising the point over the parchment.

"Are you sure about this, Miss Granger? Backpedaling will cost you one hundred points," he said warningly, although his black eyes glittered expectantly. There was only one act she could perform that wouldn't leave him frustrated. That was full intercourse.

Hermione looked at him with a bit of trepidation. Spending time with the professor yesterday had brought out quite a few yearnings in the witch, very improper yearnings. She didn't know the man. She wasn't in love with him, but his kisses and touches caused a definite reaction in her. She thought . . . she thought sex with him would be nice. Probably more than nice. But still . . .

"I . . . I'm almost sure. I just don't want to be hurt, Professor," she said to him.

Snape's eyes drifted over the nervous witch.

"A bit of initial pain can't be helped, Miss Granger, but . . . I can assure you, I won't leave you unprepared," he said in a low voice. "Judging by your reactions to me last night, I believe you will be quite willing by the time we engage. It's up to you, however. Just know that your decision will be binding, unless you are willing to lose those points."

Hermione studied him, wishing she could get one kiss from him to remind her just how good they were. But she couldn't. It was against the rules. Contact had to be because of extra credit.

"I'll do it," she said softly, her belly all aflutter.

"Nine o'clock?" he asked her softly.

Hermione nodded and he wrote it in with a flourish.

He put the quill down.

"It's done, Miss Granger. Be at my office at nine o'clock tomorrow night. Be punctual."

"I will be," Hermione said, feeling as if the entire world was turning around on her. She unsteadily made her way out of Snape's classroom, the wizard looking after her thoughtfully.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said to himself when the door closed. He really hadn't expected that from the witch. But, at least he was going to get something other than ridicule out of his noble gesture.

And, she was a virgin. That certainly sweetened the cauldron.

Humming, he put the parchment away, feeling a bit better than he did initially as he made his way to his office.

A virgin.

Yes.

* * *

A/N: Oh, that Gryffindor sense of guilt come in handy, doesn't it? Thanks for reading.


	17. Changing Houses

**Chapter 17 Changing Houses**

Albus, Severus and Minerva sat in the Headmaster's office. Minerva's face was tight, pinched and disapproving as Snape looked soberly at the Headmaster.

"I don't agree, Albus. Sending Miss Granger to Slytherin house is like sending a lamb to the wolves. I don't care what the students 'agreed' on. Miss Granger would be an instant target in that house! I am totally against this," the witch stated firmly, narrowing her eyes at Snape, who was completely unaffected.

Albus looked from Minerva to Snape and back again.

"Headmaster, you must also take into consideration the necessity to recreate the situation under which Miss Granger arrived here. She must be in her proper house for the conditions to be favorable. As a Slytherin in Gryffindor house, she is not where she should be. The exchange won't be able to be made," the Potions master purred.

"You don't know that for fact!" Minerva exclaimed.

Snape looked at her coolly.

"No, I don't, Minerva, but the fact is she has not seen her counterpart in the mirror of Erised even once, although it can be deduced that our Miss Granger had to be in her room at night. The time frames are the same as far as we know. Perhaps she will have better luck in Slytherin house, provided our Hermione has been placed in Gryffindor on the other side. It is worth a try in any case."

"But, she'll be targeted in your house, Severus," Minerva said again, her eyes pleading as they turned on Albus.

Snape frowned at her.

"Minerva, you are acting as if this is the Miss Granger you are familiar with. I assure you, this Hermione Granger is no lamb and no victim. She has expressed to me on several occasions her desire to be switched to my house. She is miserable in Gryffindor."

"How could she be? Everyone treats her nicely," Minerva responded. "Much nicer than she'd be treated in Slytherin. She'd be ostracized."

Snape looked at Albus.

"Headmaster, the final decision is up to you, but I hope you'll take what I've said into consideration. Keeping her in Gryffindor will most likely keep her in this universe, and I have a feeling that our Miss Granger is faring far worse in her universe than this one is in ours. There might not be anything left of our Miss Granger to retrieve," the dark wizard said soberly.

Albus sighed.

"All right, Severus. I'll consider it. But for now, Miss Granger will stay in Gryffindor house. There haven't been any incidents between her and the other students, so apparently she is making out there. Yet, you do bring up an interesting point about recreating the conditions. You might be right. I'll have to consider this. I'll let you know my decision in a few days."

Minerva looked at Snape smugly.

"Very well, Headmaster. Thank you for your time," the wizard said, rising and departing the office.

Gryffindors always stuck together, and Albus was a Gryffindor. Well, there was more than one way to skin a lion.

Snape held Hermione after class that afternoon and told her what the Headmaster had to say.

"What? Oh, gods damn it!" the witch cursed.

Snape studied her for a moment.

"Albus stated that there have been no 'incidents' in Gryffindor between you and the other students . . . "

Hermione looked back at him, and slowly gave a rather nasty smile.

"I'll see you later, Professor," she said, hoisting her backpack on her shoulder and quickly leaving the class room.

Snape smirked after her.

He had no doubt she would.

One thing that could be said for this Hermione Granger . . . when she did something, she did it big.

At supper in the Great Hall, all her housemates were gathered around her, trying to make small talk, offering her the tastiest foods and generally smothering her. She sat there stiffly as they crowded about. Her hexing Blaise was the reason for all the adoration. Her brown eyes shifted to Snape, who was sitting at the dais.

Minerva was watching the melee, smiling and pointing her students out to Albus proudly.

"Does that look like an unhappy, unappreciated witch to you? Her housemates adore her," the witch gushed. "She certainly does not belong in Slytherin."

Suddenly, a huge blast came from the Gryffindor table, turning it and the benches over, dumping all the students with the exception of Hermione on the floor.

"Leave me alone, you sniveling idiots! I fucking hate this house!" she screeched at the startled students scrambling to their feet. "I'd rather be locked in the dungeons than spend another second with you do-gooders. Now, back off or someone's going to the infirmary!"

Hermione stepped over the bench and stormed out of the Great Hall amid total silence. Snape resumed eating his meal.

If that little stunt didn't get her out of Gryffindor house, nothing would.

* * *

"You'll be singing another tune once you're in Slytherin house," an irate Minerva McGonagall said to Hermione as she packed up a few of Hermione's things.

"Yeah," she said under her breath, "probably 'Happy Days are Here Again.'"

"None of your cheek, young lady. Really, attacking your housemates in that manner. I hope the hundred points you lost makes you think," Minerva snapped at her.

Oh, it made Hermione think all right. It made her think that Minerva was a bloody idiot. She was so enraged by Hermione's conduct, that she deducted the points before she moved to Slytherin house. Well, once she counted the gems, she'd realize her mistake and have to set about restoring points to Gryffindor. Hermione smirked as she hoisted her bag on her shoulder.

"Well, I'm out," the witch said, walking past a scowling Minerva and out the door.

She passed through the sullen group of Gryffindors in the Common Room without a word.

Harry started after her, then stopped. She didn't want to be there, and to be honest, she wasn't the Hermione he knew. It was best to let her go, although she was going to have a hard time in Slytherin house.

Hermione stepped through the exit and was met by Snape, whose black eyes glittered down at her.

"Ready for relocation, Miss Granger?" he purred at her.

"Since my first day here," she responded, falling in step with the wizard.

They walked in silence until they made it down to the dungeon corridor and stopped in front of the wall that hid the entrance to Slytherin house.

"I expect you in my office after you settle in," Snape said to her in a low voice, ready to collect his pound of flesh.

Hermione laughed.

"You have to be kidding me. I have to establish myself in the pecking order first. That's going to take at least one night, Professor. You're going to have to wait," she told him.

Snape scowled at her. The little calculating bitch.

"I met my end of the bargain," he hissed at her. "You owe me."

Hermione shrugged.

"I'm going to follow through on my end, but this is far more important than letting you dip your wand. After I deal with my housemates and reach an understanding with them, I'll deal with you. That's how it is, Professor. Take it or leave it," she replied, giving him a very annoying little smile.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"It's not wise to goad me, Miss Granger," he said to her darkly.

Hermione snorted.

"Oh, I hope you're not talking sexual payback, Professor. Really, I've been around. You don't scare me. I can handle whatever you throw at me," she said, running a finger up his chest, then poking it.

Snape didn't respond, but said the password to let her in. He started to follow, but the witch turned, pressing her hand against his chest, stopping him cold.

"I'd rather enter Slytherin on my own. Alone. That way, anyone who has a problem with me is more likely to let it out. With you present, they'll hold back. I want to see who I have to face down. I know that idiot Blaise, but I'm sure there are others. I'll see you tomorrow, Professor. If all goes well, you'll be plugging away by nightfall."

Snape watched as the witch walked into the long, damp corridor, then into the Common Room.

He stared as the door closed, then turned away, heading for his office in a terrible mood. He had wanted her tonight.

No matter. Tomorrow would be soon enough. He'd see just how much he 'threw at her' she could catch, the cheeky little wench.

* * *

Many of the Slytherins were in the common room, Draco sitting on a couch with Pansy perched next to him fiddling with his tie, Blaise surrounded by sympathetic Slytherins, still raging about "that Mudblood." Goyle and Crabbe were watching Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis play a game of wizarding chess, and a few of the younger students were seated at tables, studying and playing cards.

Hermione walked in, glanced around and headed for the female dorm, without saying a word to anyone. All sound stopped cold as the curly-haired witch walked through as if she always belonged there.

Technically, she did.

"It's her!" Blaise said, standing up. Draco stiffened as well, Pansy scowling at him as he looked after Hermione.

"She's got some nerve just walking through here like that," Pansy breathed, then looked over at Millicent. "Come on, Millicent. Let's make her feel . . . welcome."

"I'll come with you," Blaise said.

Slytherin house didn't have any traps or tricks to keep wizards and witches separated. They could enter each other's dorms and rooms at will, and did so quite openly.

Millicent stood up. She was no pixie. Black-haired and strong-jawed, she was a big witch. Her face was rather masculine, and a few hairs sprouted from her chin. Her shape was squared rather than curvaceous, her shoulders quite broad.

"Let's go," she said in her husky voice, walking past Pansy and down the corridor that led to the rooms, followed by Pansy, Blaise and several other Slytherins. Draco brought up the rear, so he could be the first to get the hell out of there.

Hermione's room was the last one. She had the door open and was hanging up her robes.

"You can't just walk in here like you own the place, you Mudblood," Pansy snarled, pushing Millicent forward.

Hermione continued hanging up her clothing, not responding as her housemates gathered outside. Her wand was lying on her bed a little distance away. Blaise saw this and immediately pulled his wand, shouldering to a position in front of the door, moving Millicent's bulk aside. His face twisted nastily.

"Crucio!" the black wizard cried, firing the illegal hex at the witch, really intending to make her pay.

Suddenly, he screamed, as did Millicent, Pansy and the others clustered around the door as the hex rebounded and covered them, Blaise so wracked with pain he was unable to break it as they writhed. Finally, Draco ran forward, reached in and snatched the seizuring wizard's wand out of his hand, ending the horrible curse.

The Slytherins lay on the floor in a shuddering pile, stinking of urine and feces since their bodies lost all control under the pain. Hermione finished putting her shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe, turned and did her best to look surprised as her housemates struggled to get up from the floor, their faces pale and cheeks wet with tears.

"Oh, did you all want to see me? You should have knocked. I have a repelling spell on my door. But . . . I guess you figured that out, didn't you?" she said sweetly.

Hermione approached the door, frowned, then waved her hand under her nose as the scent of their loosened bowels hit her. She looked at Draco for a moment, who stood there unsullied, holding Blaise's wand in his hand. He hadn't been part of this. Smart wizard. She gave him a slight smile before turning her brown eyes on the pile of students trying to get up. Draco shook his head slightly, not able to believe her nerve.

"Phew!" Hermione exclaimed. "I knew this house was full of stinkers . . . I just didn't have any idea how much you'd all stink. So, if you don't mind . . ."

Hermione slammed the door in their faces, walked across the room and broke out in hysterical laughter, falling on her bed and rolling around worse than the Crucio'd Slytherins had. Oh, this was rich, and oh so easy. These Slytherins were far less intelligent than those in her own world.

For their sakes, she hoped they'd learn quickly. No one would be able to say anything to her. Blaise had thrown the curse, and anyway, the Cruciatus Curse was very illegal here. If anything was said, more than likely the wizard would be arrested.

As the Slytherins pulled themselves together, taking out their wands and shakily Scourgifying themselves, they could hear the witch in the room cracking up and sullenly made their way back down the corridor, shamed.

She had bested them without lifting her wand. And now, she had the incident as ammo. She could make them the laughingstocks of Hogwarts if she told anyone about it, and Blaise could be picked up by the Aurors. Professor Snape could only protect them so much, and even he couldn't do anything if an Unforgivable was used. Lying wouldn't help either. In the case of Unforgivables, Veritaserum was used during interrogation. Enough students were affected that Blaise would surely be found out.

She had all the blackmail material she needed. Blaise would be forced to back off now, and her housemates knew she knew how to protect herself. What kind of spell blocked a Cruciatus Curse though? Nothing they knew of. Defensive spells were much stronger in this Hermione's world. The Imperius Curse could be blocked as well, although the Killing Curse was still unstoppable.

The aching students limped back to the Common Room, those who didn't follow looking at them quizzically. The stench still lingered and those affected headed for their rooms to shower, not discussing what happened at all.

Draco watched all of them go, especially Pansy, stood there in indecision for a moment, then walked back down the corridor to the witch's room. He stood there a moment, then knocked.

Hermione sat up in the bed, picked up her wand and approached the door. She opened it, and cocked her head when she saw Draco standing there.

"You want something?" she asked him, her brown eyes drifting over the blonde wizard.

"Yes," Draco said, clearing his throat a little. "I just wanted to welcome you to Slytherin house."

Hermione studied him, then let out a little laugh.

"I noticed you weren't crowding my door with the rest of them," she said to the wizard.

"I knew better. I learn fast," he responded.

Hermione gave him another measuring look.

"You do, do you, Draco? That's interesting. Very interesting."

They looked at each other silently for a few moments, then Hermione started to close the door.

"I've still got some settling in to do," she said to him.

"No! No, wait. Um . . . I just wanted to say that . . . that if you need anything . . . you can just ask me," Draco said quickly.

"I can, Draco? Anything?" Hermione purred, teasing him. It was easy to tell he had wood for her.

"Yes, anything," he replied, swallowing a bit at the look in her eyes.

"Too bad you're a Pureblood. You really are beneath me," she told him.

Draco thought he wouldn't mind being beneath her if he couldn't get on top of her.

"But, we'll see if I decide I need you for anything. Now, good night," Hermione said, closing the door in his face.

Draco stood there for a moment, then slowly walked back to the Common Room, hoping she would decide she needed him for something. Anything.

He wanted to fuck her, even more now that he saw just what a bad girl she was. She wasn't at all like the original Granger, who he was attracted to, but knew he'd never get his hands on. But this one, she was bad enough to give him a shag if she chose to.

He just had to make sure she chose to. The hell with Pansy Parkinson.

* * *

A/N: lolol. Go Hermione. What an entrance. I didn't want her to duel them when she arrived, but I wanted her to get them in a smart way. Placing a repelling spell on her open doorway was perfect. Draco, you little suckup. Lol. Maybe I'll work him in, some way. Of course, there'd have to be a face-off between Hermione and Pansy first. Snape's nice and pissed. Ought to be some interesting lemons between these two. And what about our "good" Hermione? She's facing the other Snape. Will she go through with it, or back out at the last minute? She's no Slytherin, and guilt only goes so far. We'll just have to see, won't we? Thanks for reading.


	18. Confrontation

**Chapter 18 Confrontation**

The next morning, a Disillusioned Potions master stood just outside the Common Room, spying. He knew Hermione woke up early to attend breakfast. Apparently, a few Slytherins knew this as well. A frowning Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode sat on the sofa, looking toward the dorm corridor intently.

Sure enough, a fresh-looking, yawning Hermione Granger entered, stretching and knapsack in tow. Pansy wasted no time standing up and confronting her.

"Thought you were smart last night, eh Granger?" the witch said to her, blocking her way.

Hermione stopped and gave her a half smile, her brown eyes flicking over Millicent, who stood behind the witch, eyeing Hermione. She had overpowered the other Hermione back in her fifth year and was sure she could tangle this one up in knots as well, as long as she could reach her before she pulled her wand.

Hermione stepped back a bit to give herself more room.

"It's not that I thought I was smart, but you lot rather stupid, getting Crucio'd by ricochet," she chuckled.

This only served to make Pansy angrier.

"I suppose you plan to spread it all over the school and get Blaise arrested," the witch said.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"That depends. Generally I'm of the 'what goes on in Slytherin stays in Slytherin' persuasion, unless it's to my advantage to tell. In this case, I think I'll keep it to myself if all of you stay . . . civil. Otherwise, off to Dumbledore I flounce."

"That's blackmail," Millicent said scowling.

"Right in one," Hermione replied, thinking Millicent needed to take a pair of heavy duty tweezers to that uni-brow.

"Well, I don't think you have to worry about anyone attacking you now, but I want to get something straight with you on a personal level," Pansy said to her.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at her. Personal level? What the hell was Pansy talking about?

"Draco Malfoy is off-limits, understand? Just because he moved heaven and earth to get you in this house . . . " Pansy began, her face contorted

Hermione processed this . . .

"Draco did what?" she asked Pansy as if to clarify this.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know. Draco is the one who got us to agree to accept you here, saying you were a true Slytherin. You're nasty all right, but that doesn't make a Slytherin. But . . . besides that . . . Draco is my wizard. I don't want to see you leading him on. If you do, there's going to be trouble," Pansy warned her.

Hm. Hermione hadn't known she had a champion in Draco Malfoy. And she didn't like Pansy telling her who she could and couldn't indulge herself with.

"What if he leads me on?" Hermione asked her, smirking slightly.

"Ignore him," Pansy snapped, well aware Draco could make advances on the witch.

At that moment, Draco walked into the Common Room, blinking at both Pansy and Hermione. He focused on Hermione and gave her a crooked smile, ignoring Pansy as he greeted her.

"Hi Hermione," he said to the witch.

"Hello, Draco," Hermione purred in a way that made Pansy narrow her eyes at her. "Are you aware you are 'off-limits' to me? According to your little girlfriend here. I guess I can't ask you for 'anything.'"

Draco frowned.

"Off-limits? What is she talking about Pansy? You're not my girlfriend," he said to her angrily.

Pansy colored.

"I'm close enough to one, Draco. We . . . we have a history and we're always around each other. You take me to all the dances . . ."

"I never asked you out," Draco said to her, then said to Hermione, "I never asked her out. If anything . . . we're . . . we're friends with privileges. I can see who I want to see."

Hermione looked at the red-faced Pansy and laughed out loud.

"Seems those off-limits just turned on, Pansy," Hermione said, then her brown eyes narrowed spitefully.

"You know, I really didn't have any interest in Draco before, but I hate to be told what I can and cannot do, so . . ."

Pansy watched impotently as Hermione sexily walked up to Draco, clasped one hand to the back of his head, and French kissed him so furiously, she almost swallowed down his tonsils. Several Slytherins entered the Common Room, shocked to she the witch tonguing the Pureblood down, Draco wrapping his arms around her waist and returning her kiss until Hermione broke it, her brown eyes meeting Draco's heat-filled gray ones as he licked his lips, completely turned on.

Pansy was furious, and Millicent just stared at Hermione with glassy eyes.

Hermione looked at Pansy, her hand moving to her robes pocket slowly as she clasped the end of her wand.

"You've just succeeded on putting him on my to-do list," she finished. "No one puts a leash on me, unless I want one. So, what's next? Want to duel me for him? You could, but I don't plan to keep him anyway . . . so, it's up to you."

"You . . . you slut!" Pansy hissed at her.

Hermione shrugged.

"Tomato, Tomahto, Pansy. I'm sure you shagging him makes you so much better than me," the witch replied as Draco stared at her hungrily, unable to process anything but that tonsil-swiping kiss. Dear gods, Granger was the hottest thing on the face of the planet.

Thanks, Pansy.

Snape stood in the doorway, furious at the witch. She'd set her sights on the handsome, spoiled Draco Malfoy. Things were easy enough for the young wizard already. Now she was going to give him a shag? For nothing?

This wasn't remotely fair. She had him jumping through all kinds of hoops, while Draco was going to get the treatment just to piss off his little girlfriend.

The Potions master had heard enough. He walked up the corridor, not caring whether the witches dueled or not. All he was concerned about was getting his hands and other parts of his body on Hermione Granger tonight.

He'd show her he wasn't a man to play with. Draco Malfoy was little more than a boy . . . but him? He was more than man enough for the loose little witch.

He planned to show her that too. Malfoy couldn't hold a torch to him.

Pansy didn't duel Hermione, but fell to trying to insult her for being a loose witch, willing to shag anyone and not being able to keep her legs closed. Hermione simply laughed at her and told her to save the soapbox for the Gryffindors and headed on to breakfast.

Pansy was furious at Millicent, who seemed to freeze up when Hermione kissed Draco. The big witch simply stared at Hermione with a glazed look in her eyes. Hermione gave her a little knowing glance as well.

It wasn't hard to tell which way Miss Bulstrode swung.

Pansy then had a big one-sided row with Draco, telling him he simply couldn't possibly want that "Mudblood" after the way she'd treated Blaise and how she looked down on all of them. It was one-sided because Draco wouldn't even argue with her, he was so smitten.

"There's no telling what wizarding STD's she's carrying," Pansy harped at him as they headed for breakfast. "And the way she kissed you . . . I'm surprised you didn't throw up."

Draco didn't say a word as he nearly floated into the Great Hall, his gray eyes settling on Hermione as she calmly ate her breakfast, not paying either him or Pansy any attention at all, although she was aware of his gaze and Pansy's frowns. Well, at least Pansy wasn't the simpering doormat she was in the alternate universe, but she was still a bloody idiot. If she were smart, she'd play the field. Sure, Draco was cute, but there were plenty of other wizards to enjoy. He was just one out of many, after all.

Some witches had their priorities all screwed up. Particularly in this world.

Snape watched Hermione through hooded eyes from the dais, imagining how he would greet her tonight.

He planned on giving her quite a welcome once the doors were closed.

The little tease.

* * *

Hermione was informed by Minerva that Tom Riddle wanted to see her directly after breakfast that morning, and she was to skip class to go see him. The Slytherins all eyed her, wondering what the Headmaster wanted with the Gryffindor.

Hermione hoped he had something to tell her about getting back to her own world. She was a bit put off when he grilled her more about Voldemort, asking about his Death Eaters and the acts he had performed.

Hermione told him just how horrible the despot was, as Tom looked thoughtful. Then he asked about the society itself, how it functioned. It seemed like the kind of world where others could be easily manipulated without much force. Not that he didn't enjoy some of the darker aspects of his world, but they were tiresome, especially for someone in power like he was. And Lord Bedaub Mules was a big pain in the arse. Powerful, too.

They'd tangled more than once, and he kept Tom on his toes trying to protect Harry. Then he asked about Albus Dumbledore and the Order. That version of the wizard was far more palatable than this world's version.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, do you think your Headmaster would be willing to have a dialogue with me?" Tom asked the witch.

Hermione looked a bit perplexed, then slowly nodded.

"He probably would, since you like Muggle-Borns," she replied.

"Good. I have a message I would like delivered to him, one that is not for anyone else's eyes. It will be strongly and dangerously warded, in case someone gets . . . curious. However, I will require you to perform a service for me and need you to give me a wizard's oath that you will carry it out, otherwise, Miss Granger . . . you will remain in this universe permanently. I will destroy the Mirror of Noisreva."

"What? No, don't do that Headmaster," Hermione gasped at him.

"I require you to return to me with an answer from your Headmaster. Only for a moment. Our Miss Granger will return to your world for that short duration. After that, you'll be free of me, in a manner of speaking," the wizard purred at her.

He only wanted her to bring back a message from Dumbledore. She'd do that willingly. There was no reason to threaten her. But this was a world full of extortion. Tom was simply doing what he normally did. Tightening the screws.

Hermione agreed to be his courier, giving him an oath, and Tom gave her a smile in return.

"Very good," he purred. "You will be moving into Gryffindor house. I've deduced that you are in the wrong house to recreate the conditions necessary for a return to your own universe. You need to be in your proper house, that of Gryffindor. Hopefully, our Miss Granger is in Slytherin as she's supposed to be. The mirror will be moved into your new quarters after curfew tonight. My message to your Headmaster will be there as well. Hopefully he will respond within the time frame I requested."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said to him.

Tom nodded, then drew his wand and flicked it at her. Hermione felt a coldness sink into her very bones.

"What did you do to me?" she asked the wizard frowning at her slightly.

"Oh, just added a bit of insurance. You must be back here at the designated time, or you will be parted from your mortal coil," he told her, leaning back in his chair.

"My mortal coil?" Hermione repeated, horror washing over her.

"You will die, Miss Granger. If anyone attempts to remove my curse, you will also die. So don't try any tricks. Just deliver the reply on time," Tom said darkly.

He wasn't taking any chances.

Hermione stared at him. He might not look like Voldemort, but he was just as evil.

"You may go, Miss Granger. At the end of the day, report to Gryffindor tower. All your things will have been placed there," Tom told her.

He watched as the stricken witch left, shaking his head, thinking that he was getting her out of his world just in the nick of time. She had no survival skills at all. The other Hermione always wore a powerful repelling spell, even when entering his presence. He couldn't order her to remove it either. A right to protect oneself was written into the rules. This meant protective charms as well. Not even a staff member could force a student to remove a spell from his or her person if it were defensive.

Good thing this Miss Granger wasn't as sharp as his own.

Tom took out a piece of parchment with the school's letterhead on it and began to pen his message and plan to Albus Dumbledore. Hopefully the wizard would see the beauty of it and was also ready for a change.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	19. Going for It

**Chapter 19 Going for It**

The rest of Hermione's day seemed completely unreal. She'd been cursed by Tom Riddle and now was under a hex that would take her life if she didn't deliver a message from Albus Dumbledore within a specified time frame.

That was enough to put any witch off her game. But it did have some benefit. Parvati Patil still wanted to remove the Slytherin Hermione from the equation, and at lunch, sat next to Hermione again, quite closely, noting how distracted the witch seemed in the last class and how distracted she was now. Both Ron and Harry eyed the witch, but said nothing. Ron wasn't going to save her again, especially since Snape already made a fool of himself doing it. If Parvati managed to get Granger, she'd either sink or swim.

Because of the hyper-sense of unreality surrounding her situation, Hermione wasn't exactly unfocused, it was as if she were super-focused, everything around her seeming to move in slow motion. Parvati asked Hermione to pass her a plate of chicken, and when the witch did so, Parvati dropped a pinch of powder into her pumpkin juice, unaware that Hermione had seen her out of the corner of her eye.

Hermione realized it was Parvati who was sitting next to her when she was poisoned the first time and quickly put two and two together. She straightened and handed her the platter of chicken, then continued eating her meal, but not drinking the pumpkin juice, becoming angrier and angrier in the process. Not just at Parvati, but at everything. Being stuck here, being despised by her housemates, being cursed by Tom Riddle, being forced to follow a set of rules she abhorred, Snape taking stripes for her and becoming a laughingstock because of his nobility. She was tired of all of it. More than tired.

She was pissed. Furious. And wanted to take it out on somebody.

Parvati fit the bill perfectly.

Hermione knew that her housemate most likely wore a repelling spell, so hexing her would only result in the hex rebounding, but it couldn't fend off a physical attack. Hermione didn't plan on beating her up, she had something else in mind.

Parvati had long, black glossy hair that fell to her waist, and unlike the Parvati in her world, didn't keep it pinned up in a decorative bun, but allowed it to fall freely. Hermione thought hard for a moment, then carefully flicked her fork so it fell into the aisle. Normally, everyone remained seated during meals, but her getting up to retrieve her fork was reason enough to stand. She got up slowly and stepped over the bench, walking around the fork so she was facing Parvati's back.

Parvati, in an effort to seem completely unaware of Hermione because she'd poisoned her drink, didn't look back at her, although the rest of the students, and the staff members had their eyes on her, Tom frowning slightly at the disturbance of his usually perfect order.

What happened next was a surprise to everyone, particularly Parvati, as Hermione quickly wrapped her left hand in her hair, and yanked her head back, grabbing the spiked pumpkin juice and tossing it into her mouth when she yelled, then releasing her, snatching her healers bag from her waist, so she couldn't reach the Bezoar.

"Ack! Arrrgh!" Parvati gurgled, clutching at her throat as the quick-acting poison took effect. No one made a move to help her as her face mottled up. Hermione watched her, white-hot anger coursing through her.

"How do you like your own poison, Parvati?" she hissed at her.

Draco was wide-eyed! Wow, maybe this Hermione did belong in Slytherin after all.

"She's going to kill her," Minerva hissed at Tom, who just watched, saying nothing but looking thoughtful. Maybe he'd underestimated the witch.

Parvati fell backwards off the bench and clawed up at Hermione, gasping as the witch stood there for a moment, watching the witch's eyes begin to dim. She reached into the healer's bag and retrieved Parvati's Bezoar stone.

Suddenly, Hermione dropped to one knee, forced Parvati's mouth open and pushed in the Bezoar, covering her mouth with her hand so she didn't spit it out.

Parvati immediately was able to breathe again, and lay there panting for about three minutes before Hermione rose from her side, dropped her healer's bag on the floor and calmly sat back down again, Scourgifying the glass of pumpkin juice and picking up a treacle tart off a platter as everyone stared at her silently.

"On the day she's to be put in Gryffindor, she finally acts like a Slytherin," Tom said dismissively, returning to his meal as Parvati clambered back to the bench and sat down, sliding away from the witch.

She didn't say anything, but hung her head so she wouldn't have to look at anyone. Hermione had gotten her dead to rights, and no one would blame her. Parvati was just lucky she really was a Gryffindor. The other Hermione would have let her die on the floor of the Great Hall.

From down the table, Harry looked at the imitation Hermione calculatingly. Well, she wasn't a total marshmallow, but she still had shown mercy. A weakness his own Hermione didn't have in large supply. Ron, however, was smiling.

Parvati was bound to need a bit of sympathy and comfort later on, and since his Hermione wasn't around, she'd be a fine substitute. Probably not as good, but passable.

Snape studied her from the dais, rather surprised that the witch had done such a thing. Then again, anyone could be pushed to their limits. The witch probably had reached her threshold. It was a good thing, really. It let others see she was capable of being cruel and vengeful. Good traits at this school to say the least.

Maybe he wouldn't have to go as easy on her as he planned. She looked like the Miss Granger he desired, but had no sexual experience and he was painfully aware of this. But after watching her take Parvati to the mats, his perception of her changed just enough to make her more like her counterpart. The gods knew he wanted to fuck the hell out of that version of the witch. Normally, Snape was quite gentle with his charges, the sex good and satisfying but somewhat restrained. He treated them with respect for the most part, unless their extra credit choice required a bit of role play or was fantasy-based. Many of the sessions did entail those specifications, simply because they were worth more points. He acted accordingly in those situations.

But the Hermione Granger of this world mistreated him terribly. Insulted him, hexed him and gave him more trouble than the rest of the students combined. It was as if she tried to drive him to his limits, make him break out of his calm, thoughtful Gryffindor persona. She'd come dangerously close to it on a number of occasions but he managed to maintain his control and reserve. Hermione Granger was the one student at the school he'd like to drive headfirst into the headboard and hear shriek under his pummeling until she lost her voice. That would be a nice way to send her back to Slytherin house.

He sighed inwardly as he looked at Hermione. Yes, her little stunt did make her more Slytherin-like, but she really wasn't the witch he desired. One act of malice didn't make her the real Hermione Granger at any rate. He was sure tonight would be pleasurable, but nothing to write home about. Since she was a virgin, he'd have to treat her carefully. She probably wouldn't even be willing to give him a warm-up blow job first. Ah, well. At least he'd pop her cherry. Afterwards, he'd send her on her way.

* * *

Snape held Hermione back after Transfiguration class, looking up at the witch from his desk as she stood in front of it, gazing back at him.

"That was some performance at lunch," he said to her.

Hermione shook her head ruefully.

"I'm not proud of that. I . . . I just snapped. I was thinking about apologizing to her later," Hermione said.

"No! Don't you apologize. She tried to poison you, Miss Granger. She received what she deserved. You already showed her mercy when she wouldn't have done it for you. There's nothing to apologize for," he stated firmly, frowning at her.

She really had no idea how to survive in this world. You didn't give someone her just desserts, then apologize. She'd be perceived as weaker than ever.

"You have to get it through your head that you're in a different world," he told the witch. "Don't backpedal now that you've managed to earn some small modicum of respect here. It will only make it harder for you to earn more. Now, I just wanted to remind you about our appointment tonight. With all the excitement, it may have slipped your mind."

Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment. It really did slip her mind, with Parvati, the curse and her moving into Gryffindor. She wondered if he knew.

"The Headmaster is moving me into Gryffindor. He told me to report there after supper," she said to the surprised wizard.

Snape frowned, and Hermione interpreted his frown as displeasure.

"You don't want me in Gryffindor?" she asked him.

Snape looked up at her, his face relaxing.

"No, it's not that. You are welcomed in my house, Miss Granger," Snape said.

The reason he frowned was because he couldn't resist telling the Headmaster at breakfast this morning about Hermione agreeing to more extra credit work, and that it would involve deflowering her. Tom had looked a bit thoughtful.

"She could back out. That would mean a one hundred point loss for Slytherin," the wizard mused.

"Yes, that's correct," Snape replied.

"Hm," had been Tom's only response.

Now, he had placed her in Gryffindor, the slick bastard. If Hermione did balk, then Gryffindor house would lose the points, rather than Slytherin. Tom Riddle was one smart treacle tart.

"I hope you are truly prepared to go through with your extra credit, Miss Granger. Entering Gryffindor house with a one hundred point reduction won't endear you to either me or your housemates," he said to her softly.

"Yes . . . I am," she said to him just as softly, "although, I do have things on my mind. The Headmaster is also putting the Mirror of Noisreva in my quarters and I'm to take a message to Albus Dumbledore. He made me take an oath, and then . . . then he put a curse on me. If I don't carry out his orders, I'm going to die."

Snape shook his head.

"Standard Riddle. Just do what you were instructed to do, and you'll be fine," the Transfiguration teacher said, not at all surprised by this information.

Hermione was taken a bit aback. She had expected more sympathy from the wizard. She could die after all. Maybe this Snape was nicer than the Snape in her world, but he seemed just as cold all in all.

It wasn't that this Snape was cold, he was just conditioned, a product of his environment. Despite his rather noble ideals, he still adhered to the rules of his society and was comfortable with them. In this world, one had to look after his or herself and deal with whatever came their way. Hermione would have to deal with Tom. That was all there was to it. He had saved her from the caning, but that's as far as it went. He wouldn't insert himself in anything else, except her body from this point on.

He wrote out a pass and handed it to her.

"I will see you at nine o'clock tonight. Would you like me to have some calming potion on hand?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded, suddenly feeling just how . . . clinical this was. How disconnected the wizard appeared to be. But then again, he had shown nothing the first time she came to him for extra credit, although he was wonderful once they began kissing. Maybe it would be like that again. She shook off the feeling of disconnection.

"Yes, please. Just in case," she murmured.

Snape nodded and watched her exit his classroom, looking thoughtful.

He hoped everything would go smoothly.

* * *

Hermione spent the evening in her private room. Draco hovered in the common room, hoping to see the witch. Pansy was there as well, watching him like a vulture as he leafed through books, played a couple of half-hearted games of wizard chess and made furtive glances toward the girl's dorm. He didn't feel like fighting with Pansy, so he didn't go to Hermione's room.

Finally, at five minutes to nine, Hermione emerged, dressed in her robes. She silently walked through the Common Room, every eye on her as she headed for the exit.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Draco suddenly called to her desperately, wanting a bit of her attention.

Pansy's eyes narrowed as Hermione turned around.

"I have an appointment," she said.

Draco's brows rose.

"This close to curfew?" he asked her.

"Apparently so," Hermione responded.

"Wait. I'm about to start my rounds, so I can walk you to wherever you're going," Draco offered as Pansy turned all kinds of colors.

Hermione was tempted to tell him no, but looked at Pansy and gave him a sexy smile.

"Sure. I'd like some company," she said to Draco, who nearly fell over himself getting to the witch. Pansy's eyes welled up with tears as she watched the two of them exit.

"That slut," she whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks.

They had barely made it out of Slytherin house when Draco asked, "Did you really mean what you said this morning . . . about putting me on your to-do list?"

Hermione quirked her lip at him.

"Stop being so eager. You're like a . . . a puppy or something. It's a turn-off," she told him.

Draco immediately tried to look more sober and in control.

"I just wanted to know if you said that just to piss of Pansy," he responded, his voice a bit lower.

Hermione shrugged.

"I really don't know, Draco. I have to see if I can get by you being a Pureblood. And the way you're dogging my heels, you remind me of the Draco in my world. I like bad boys, not grovelers."

"I'm not groveling. I'm interested in you. How do you expect me to act toward a witch I want?" he demanded, angry now.

Hermione chuckled at his anger. Much better.

"More like this," she responded, stopping in front of the Potions office. Draco stopped too.

"Why are you stopping here?" he asked her.

"My appointment is with Professor Snape," she responded, knocking on the door.

"But Professor Snape never sees students after curfew. He closes his office promptly at nine," Draco replied.

"Obviously, he made an exception for me," Hermione said, knocking again.

Draco started as the door was jerked halfway open, and a pale hand shot out, grasping the witch by the arm and yanking her inside.

"Get in here, you little . . . " a familiar voice hissed, the door slamming before the sentence was finished.

Draco stood there, blinking at the closed door. That was definitely the Professor. Why did he yank her in there the way he did? And that wasn't his usual way of greeting a student . . .

Draco paled.

After curfew? Snape pulling her inside the way he did . . . there was only one answer to this puzzle. The Potions master was shagging the witch. He had to be.

Gross. Was Granger that twisted that she'd do the ugliest wizard at the school? And a teacher at that? Oh, that was too much to even consider. It was . . . sick. Disgusting. Was it even allowed?

It must be. Snape wouldn't risk his job.

Draco made his way up the dungeon corridor, feeling torn now . . . almost . . . almost betrayed. This Hermione Granger really was a slut. He didn't know if he wanted her now, being that the professor was stuffing her with cock. Gods.

The conflicted Slytherin went about his rounds, unable to decipher all the feelings running through him.

He didn't know what he'd say or do the next time he saw her.

Gods, this sucked.

* * *

Hermione left Gryffindor tower in a kind of daze. It was strange being treated nicely by people she knew as Slytherins in her world. Blaise was even nice to her, carrying her bag to the foot of the stairwell that led up to the girl's dorm, then levitating it the rest of the way.

They even had small cakes and butterbeers to welcome her. It was all so strange, but at least she felt welcome. But if Tom were right about the Mirror of Noisreva, she wouldn't be here in the morning. She didn't tell them that however. It didn't make any sense to ruin the party. At a quarter to nine she announced that she had to go see professor Snape for extra credit. Everyone fell silent.

"You're going to see him?" Draco asked her, his head cocked.

"Yes. Is there something wrong with that?" she asked him.

Draco shrugged.

"I suppose not. It's just that we've all kind of backed off on him because he's . . . "

"Because everyone considers him a laughingstock," Hermione finished for him, a bit angrily. "I tell you what, you might be Gryffindors, but you show a lot less loyalty than we do in my world. You should be supporting him, not shunning him. I've got to go."

Hermione left the Common Room and several chastised Gryffindors behind.

Draco looked thoughtful.

Maybe she was right.

* * *

Her stomach in knots, Hermione knocked on the office door. Snape immediately answered. He was dressed in a long, silk robe and slippers, his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He smelled very nice, like spices.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he said to her softly. "Please, come in."

He stood aside and Hermione entered nervously, walking through the open wall and into his study. He followed her and she turned toward him. He gave her a smile.

"I thought you might have decided to take the point loss," he said to her, sobering as he saw the frightened look in her eyes. It wasn't glaring, but it was easy to see she was afraid. The next part was going to make her feel even more uncomfortable, but there was no way around it.

"There's no need to be nervous, Miss Granger. I assure you I am very skilled and will not take you beyond your limits. Please take a seat. We have to go over what your extra credit will entail, and the limitations of it," he told her, retrieving the laminated parchment as she sat in the armchair. The wizard picked up a marker and sat down on the ottoman, looking at her.

"Now, we need to decide what will be acceptable and unacceptable. All I need you to do is nod yes, or shake your head no when I read the list to you. All right?" he asked the nervous witch, who was reflexively bunching her robes in her lap.

"All right," she said in a near whisper.

"Kissing?" he asked her.

Hermione slowly nodded.

"Caressing?"

Nod.

"Suckling?"

Hermione stared at him.

"As on your breasts," Snape clarified.

Hermione reddened, then nodded.

"Intimate touching. Finger-play?"

Hermione's head moved in such a way, Snape couldn't tell if she meant yes or no.

"All right, I'll make this easier for you. Would you like foreplay or not? Foreplay is very pleasurable and prepares you for sex, and involves a number of acts. Rather than have you have to pick and choose, you can just give me an overall yes or no. I'll be able to tell by your reactions what you like and don't like. Does that sound acceptable?"

Hermione nodded. Snape gave her a small smile and checked off several boxes

"Now, there are certain acts that have to be clarified. So listen carefully and nod or shake your head. Blowjob?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously.

"Oral sex . . . on the receiving end?"

Hermione blinked at him. Snape gave her a little grin.

"It's good, believe me," he told her, licking his lips a bit.

She slowly nodded. He checked another box, then looked at her evenly.

"Full penetration?"

Brown eyes met black eyes and Hermione swallowed. Several moments passed before she nodded nearly imperceptibly.

He checked the box.

"Anal sex?"

Hermione's head swiveled madly. The wizard smirked.

"Not for beginners," he agreed. "Now, do I pull out at orgasm or remain embedded for the duration?"

Hermione blinked at him.

"I'm not sure," she said softly, blushing.

Snape couldn't help feeling just a bit tender toward the witch.

"I'll give you a contraceptive," he said to her gently. "I think that you'll need a sense of connection your first time. Pulling out of a witch at climax is generally for the more experienced. Feeling me come inside you will make the feeling of connection stronger. Once you become used to having sex for pleasure, it will be easier to make the choice of in or out. Some witches enjoy seeing a wizard's come spread on their bodies. It's a turn-on."

Hermione nodded slowly and Snape checked "in" on the parchment. Then he returned it to the desk, Hermione watching him. He approached her again and pointed to the closed door.

"You can go in now. You'll find a nightgown, robe and slippers. You can change in the bathroom. In the cabinet over the sink, you'll find a contraceptive potion and a calming potion. You are required to take the contraceptive, but not the calming potion if you don't need it. I suggest you refrain unless you are absolutely sure it will be, because it can make you sluggish and detract from . . . the extra credit."

He watched as Hermione rose and walked to the door, her hand hesitating over the knob momentarily, before she gripped it and let herself in, closing the door behind her.

Snape walked over to his liquor cabinet and fixed himself a small brandy, knocking it back as he waited.

Again, he hoped everything would go smoothly.

* * *

A/N: Well, we're at the point. Seems sex is in sync in these universes as well. Lolol. How convenient. Well, thanks for reading.


	20. Two Moments of Truth

**Chapter 20 Two Moments of Truth**

Snape pulled Hermione against his body roughly, slamming the door with his other hand, then deftly pulling her wand out of her pocket.

"Hey! What's with the cavemen act? Give me back my wand!" the witch demanded.

Still holding her squirming body against him, Snape breathed, "You won't need it. Now, shall we go into my quarters?"

It really wasn't a question as Snape kept her close, backing through the doorway, carrying the witch along, careful to keep his body twisted so she couldn't knee him. Luckily, he had her arms pinned. Too bad her mouth wasn't covered. She let out a blue streak of curses at him.

"Such language," Snape said, letting her go, then swooping out of the way as she took a wild swing at him. "And such . . . violence."

Hermione threw a front kick at him, which Snape sidestepped, then clasped her face with one pale hand and threw her bodily to the sofa by it. The stunned witched bounced on the cushions as Snape lowered and thoroughly warded the wall.

She wouldn't be leaving until he let her leave.

"So, you're going to be a tough guy, now," she hissed at him as Snape walked over to his desk and put her wand inside the top drawer, closing it and warding it securely. She wouldn't be getting hold of her wand either.

The wizard muttered something under his breath and placed his wand on top of the desk. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

Now, Snape approached her slowly.

"Get up," he hissed at her.

Hermione stood up, her chin thrust out defiantly.

"And I've always been a 'tough guy,' Miss Granger. I've had to be," he purred at her.

"Isn't that special," she replied witheringly.

Snape studied her a moment, his black eyes drifting over her face and robed body, before his face contorted slightly.

"You're truly a bit of baggage," the wizard said in a low voice. "You haven't been in Slytherin one day and you're willing to cock your legs for Draco Malfoy, while I had to wait, pulling strings for you and suffering through hand jobs and oral sex."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Suffering? Is that what you call it? Didn't seem like you minded 'suffering' when I was doing you," she said to him tauntingly.

"Then," he continued, stepping toward her a bit menacingly, "you put me off last night, saying I had to wait . . . then this morning I watched you try to give Mr. Malfoy a tonsillectomy with your tongue, you little guttersnipe, as well as put him on your to-do list."

"Oh, come now, Professor. Don't tell me you're jealous!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's not like that. You're just a diversion. What does it matter if I do someone else? I'm just paying a debt to you. That's it. When I leave here, I won't give you another thought, unless I get randy."

Snape's dark eyes glittered at her when she said this.

And to be honest, right now, I have a whole house full of potential shags. They're Purebloods . . . but I might be able to move past that while I'm here. No one has to know in my own world. So, I might not need you again. I'm in Slytherin house now, and that's what I wanted. Now that that's accomplished, there's nothing more you can really do for me."

Snape's face contorted just a bit more at this statement.

"So, you are telling me, that this tryst will be the last we will share?" he asked her, his eyes hooded.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you. It's best to be honest in these situations," the witch told him.

Snape went silent, staring at her until she shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, don't you have something to say?" she asked him.

"Yes," Snape replied, his eyes hard as diamonds. "Take off your clothes, you manipulative piece of fluff."

* * *

Hermione gathered up the robe, nightgown and slippers from the bed, and walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. She placed the items on the counter and looked over at the shower. Because of all the excitement in Gryffindor, she hadn't taken one. Well, the professor shouldn't mind if she did now. Anyway, it would help her relax. The downside was she would no longer be wearing her makeup. It would be washed away.

"It will probably be sweated away anyhow," a small voice said in her head.

Hermione swallowed, pushing the voice away, then opened the glass door, turned on the spigot and mixed the water so it was nice and warm.

She let it run as she undressed.

Snape heard the shower turn on, and with eyebrows raised, opened the door and walked into the room. He had arranged it to the configuration of a simple bedroom. He did have some candles waiting to be lit, as well as incense to set a romantic mood for the witch. He hadn't expected her to shower. Usually, students did that before they came to him. He listened at the door for a moment, then gently tried the knob. He smirked.

She'd locked the door.

Hm.

They hadn't discussed exactly how they would engage.

A wicked smile crossed the wizard's face, and he began to disrobe. He didn't get many chances to do students in the shower, much less virgin students.

He wasn't about to pass the opportunity up.

* * *

"You don't scare me, you know," Hermione said to Snape, unbuttoning the front of her robes without hesitation.

"It's not my intention to 'scare' you," Snape responded, his eyes resting on her hands. He could see flashes of skin and scant green fabric beneath as her robes parted slightly. She was purposely keeping them together, planning on a grand disrobing, something that would make the wizard go gah-gah.

Unfortunately, Snape was not in a "gah-gah" mood.

"Aren't you going to undress?" she asked the wizard, who stood there unmoving.

"Eventually," he replied. "Right now, all I need is access to your body."

Hermione sneered at him.

"Getting psychological on me, eh? Really, you're so predictable, Professor. You being dressed isn't going to make a difference at all, except you're probably going to have to wash the scent of pussy off of your clothing.

Predictable, eh? Well, he imagined he was predictable, if she was divining he was going to fuck the shit out of her.

"Just take off your clothes," he said coldly.

Hermione suddenly pulled her robes open and let them fall, revealing a very sexy Slytherin green bra and knickers set, very lacy and very sheer. She gave him a smirk.

"Like what you see?" she asked him."

"What? More clothing? No," he snapped at her, catching the bra between her breasts and ripping it off of her. She let out a shriek of outrage!

"That took me ten minutes to transfigure!" Hermione hissed.

"You should have come naked. I have no need for bells and whistles, witch," Snape replied, grabbing for her knickers.

The witch dipped away from him.

"You try my patience," Snape snarled, stalking her. Suddenly, Hermione made a dash for the desk, Snape pursuing, then stopping as he saw what she meant to do.

"Tear my clothing off me, will you? Well, I'll show you," the witch hissed, snatching his wand off the desk and receiving a horrible shock, electricity crackling around her body before she dropped to the floor, out cold, her hair a frizzy mess.

Snape walked up to the bare-breasted witch, looking down on her.

"Now who's predictable, Miss Granger?" he purred, reaching down and picking up her limp body, throwing it over his shoulder and heading for his bedroom.

* * *

Hermione stepped into the stream of warm water, letting the flow caress her body as she focused on cleansing herself. She picked up the soap and lathered the washcloth, applying it to her body thoroughly.

She didn't hear the door unlock, or see the naked wizard easing his way into the bathroom, his dark eyes resting on the stippled shower door, seeing her body in relief. He watched as she slowly soaped her body, his cock hardening at the sight of her. He looked to see her wand on the vanity next to her clothing. Hm. Plain white knickers and bra. Nothing fancy.

At first, Hermione didn't see him as he slunk up to the glass door, staring in at her soberly. She was rinsing her back. Finally, she turned and let out a little cry as she saw him standing outside the steamy glass, his pale body distorted. But she saw enough to know the wizard was naked.

"What are you doing in here?" she gasped as the wizard slowly drew open the door.

"I heard the shower running," Snape said softly, stepping into the shower with her and closing the door behind him. "I couldn't help but . . . investigate. You are lovely, Miss Granger."

Hermione's brown eyes drifted down his body, and focused on the enormous erection sticking straight out at her. He was huge. She backed up against the wall, bringing her hand to her mouth, unable to speak. Snape saw where her eyes rested and gave her a crooked smile.

"Don't be frightened," he said, the spray of water running down his body, and dripping off the swollen tip of his cock. Hermione stared up at him as he closed the distance between them. He very gently wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist, drawing her into his hard body, Hermione gasping as his cock rested against her belly. It was hard and pulsing against her skin.

"I'm going to kiss you," he said softly, "and if you don't like how it feels, you can tell me to leave, and I will wait for you in the bedroom. If you do like it . . . then . . . we shall have a very pleasant and somewhat slippery interlude right here. And it is worth more points, I might add."

Snape's hair was plastered to his head, and water dripped off his face. His eyes were soft, however, and his hold on her very gentle. Despite the hardness trapped between their bodies, Hermione didn't feel threatened now. A bit self-conscious about their nudity, but they had to be nude. But to be deflowered in a shower stall? How would he do it? Lay her down in the tub perhaps?

Hermione didn't have time to consider the possibilities as Snape covered her mouth with his own, kissing her deeply, this time tenderly invading her mouth, tasting of brandy as his tongue wrapped around hers. It felt so . . . wrong, but so right to feel him possess her mouth this way, lapping at it lazily, sucking on her tongue. It was so intimate, invasive, so damn good to be standing skin to skin with him, water running from his body to her own, his arms around her, his warmth so close to her own. Hermione gave herself over to the kiss, her arms coiling around his neck, desire snaking through her body and pooling at the apex of her thighs, a nagging, pulsing tingle that made her shift against him, against that hardness pressing against her, no longer frightening, but compelling . . . even promising.

Snape drew back from her lips, looking into her heated eyes.

"Do I go, or do I stay, Miss Granger?" he asked her silkily, his voice dripping with desire.

Hermione blinked up at him, her arms still around his neck.

"Stay," she breathed, pulling him down into another kiss.

Hermione awoke, feeling groggy and slightly fried. She was lying on her stomach in Snape's bed, the wizard seated in a wooden chair against the far wall, watching her as she awoke. The wizard's bedroom was stark and bare, except for the four-poster bed, a dresser and wardrobe. It looked more like a dungeon than the dungeons did. Manacles on the wall wouldn't have looked a bit out of place. Torches spluttered in sconces mounted on the walk, casting flickering shadows over the wizard's pale face.

Hermione lifted her head, then rolled to her side. The first thing she saw were the torn remains of her carefully transfigured green knickers on the floor. She sat up in the bed and frowned at the Potions master, whose eyes glittered back at her.

"That was a dirty trick," she hissed at him, feeling her hair. It felt hard and frizzy. She looked very much like the original Hermione.

Snape slowly stood up and began to unbutton his robes. She noticed his boots and socks were already removed and sitting on the floor beside the chair. The wizard reached the end of the long line of buttons and let his robes fall off his shoulders, his thin, scarred body bathed in flickering flame. Hermione curled her lip at his underwear.

"Dingy briefs? You could have at least worn a new pair, or better yet . . . grow up a little. Real men wear boxers," the witch said witheringly.

Snape's eyes were cold as they swept over the witch, focusing on her thighs before he responded.

"I see no need to sacrifice my comfort for you, witch," the wizard said softly. "Unlike you, I don't care about pretty packages. My packaging doesn't matter. Only my package does. And it's more than adequate for what I have planned for you."

Snape bent, swiftly drawing down his briefs and stepping out of them, then straightening, letting them drop to the floor, his pale, uncircumcised cock swollen to an immense size, the thick, bulbous head and weeping eye sticking out from the folds of skin, shining with lubrication. His girth seemed even more daunting because he was so thin in build. Thin, but strong looking, not an inch of fat on him, his musculature tight and corded. There was no way Severus Snape could be mistaken for a weak wizard, despite his size. There were scars on his belly, a few thin ones on his chest, marks from a whip that served as testament as to what his service to the Greater Good entailed. He started toward the bed purposefully, his eyes hard.

Hermione slid back in the bed, resting on her knees as the Potions master climbed in. He was also on his knees and sat back on his heels, his eyes predatory as they rested on the naked witch before him. They faced each other, Hermione's eyes lingering over his scars with a bit of wonder. What did this wizard go through? Who beat him this way? She'd never been with anyone who bore such marks on his body. No wonder he was so dark and hard. The witch was sure that no matter how soft this world was, the Potions master had not experienced much of that softness. How could he when it was obvious he lived with pain and suffering?

"So, you think a wizard's underwear proof whether or not he's a 'real man?'" he purred at her.

"Who marked you like that?" she asked him in a low voice, ignoring his question. "Who's whipped you?"

Snape's lip curled slightly.

"According to you, the greatest wizard of your world . . . Tom Riddle," he replied. "He is very generous with the lash when it comes to me."

Hermione's eyes studied him again, then she gasped and pointed to his left forearm, where a black skull with a serpent curling from its mouth rested in dark relief against his pale skin, the flickering torchlight making the serpent seem to move.

"What's that?" she asked him.

"Something that I wish wasn't there. You ask too many questions. Let's find something else for that mouth to do," he snarled, catching her by the back of her head and pulling her face down into his lap, grinding it against his erection for a moment before yanking her up a bit by her hair. Her eyes were hot and wild at his treatment, her face glistening with his pre-cum.

It mattered little, however. Hermione Granger loved it rough.

Snape grasped his cock by its base, drawing the tight foreskin down further, and slapping his length against her cheek several times, his lips pursed at the heavy, meaty sound of flesh meeting flesh.

"Open up Miss Granger," Snape breathed. "It's time to pay the Potions master, in full."

* * *

A/N: Lol. Two very different approaches, eh? Oh Snapey. :sigh: Thanks for reading.


	21. A Bit More

**Chapter 22 A Bit More**

"No . . . it's not that you're so bad . . . you're . . . good," Hermione said softly. "I just . . . just . . . "

The stern look on Snape's face softened and he took Hermione into his arms, giving her a knowing smirk.

"Ah, I frustrated you," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger. I suppose I could have carried you out of the shower, but then we would have still had to stop to dry off. Some feel it's . . . rather sexy to fall into a bed soaking and roll around in cold, wet sheets, but I'm afraid I'm not one of them. I prefer my sheets to be soaked by . . . perspiration, when wet at all. I'm sorry the transfer wasn't more connected. I assure you we'll reconnect."

Hermione already felt a bit more reconnected in the wizard's arms, feeling him start to throb against her again. She had felt as if he'd abandoned her a bit, especially after how delicious he had felt. But to err was human and to forgive . . . especially in this situation, would certainly prove divine, she was sure.

In her own world, Hermione probably wouldn't be doing this. No, she definitely wouldn't be doing this, shagging a teacher . . . and Snape no less. But she doubted the Potions master could match his counterpart as far as turning her on went. Gryffindor Snape was passionate, gentle and patient. Her Snape's passions seemed rather dark, and he never exhibited much patience in anything.

Hermione's brain was always working, and she idly thought about Tom Riddle. Why wasn't he a Gryffindor, and Dumbledore a Slytherin? Maybe the alternate universe worked differently with the larger players. Both Riddle and Dumbledore could change the world. Maybe that had something to do with it. She wasn't sure, but didn't get a chance to continue her train of thought because Snape's lips were pressed to hers as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, gently placing her in it.

"Give me a little room, Miss Granger," he purred down at her, fully erect now, his body lean and handsome, and hair still lankish looking, reminding her of the Potions master, except for he was heavier and healthier looking.

Hermione slid over and he joined her, taking her into his embrace and kissing her several times, small, suckling kisses until he felt her press against him.

"Warming up, again?" he asked her softly.

"Yessss," Hermione breathed, her lips pursing for yet another kiss. Snape gave her one, then studied her.

"You have the potential to be quite the lover, Miss Granger," he said to her softly.

"How do you know that? We haven't done anything yet," she said to him, reddening slightly as he tightened his hold on her.

"I don't have to have had you, to know," he replied, his black eyes resting on her face intently. "It is how you respond. How you want my kisses, closer contact."

"Isn't that . . . that normal?" she asked him.

"Well, yes and no. I'm about to tell you a secret, Miss Granger. Something every woman should know, but doesn't always know. Something about men," he said. "There are women who men take and forget, and then there are women they take and can't get out of their heads. The women who are forever remembered and longed for."

Hermione knew something about this. Even at Hogwarts there were witches who put out for wizards, but then were dumped. She always attributed it to the wizards being calloused users. She stared at him, more interested in what he had to say, than their closeness for the moment.

"What is the secret?" she asked him softly.

"It's simple really. To make him feel desired, not to let him do all the work at foreplay. And I don't mean the reciprocal acts, like oral sex. That is rather basic and mundane, no matter how good a witch is at it. Just as a man takes time on a woman's body, she should take time on his, and be aggressive, show him she desires him, not just be submissive and willing, but show some fire of her own, some drive to be connected. A man likes to be told he is strong and sexy just as much as a woman likes to be told she is beautiful. He likes to be caressed, kissed and appreciated, and not just where his legs meet. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? It won't be necessary tonight because this . . . this is an interlude between us. But, I imagine in your world you will be looking for someone 'special' since monogamy is highly over-rated there," he said to her, his nose wrinkling a bit.

"I believe men are wired the same, no matter what world they are in, so if you would be one of the women to be remembered, you will always show passion and fire. Never just lie there, ever, even if it seems to be fine with him. It will be, but if you want it to be more than 'fine' you will apply yourself and make him feel just as desirable as he makes you. He will remember that. And that, Miss Granger makes all the difference."

"Turnabout is fair play," she breathed up at him.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"Right in one," he said, suddenly rolling on top of Hermione, his damp hair curtaining his face as he looked down at her. "Now enough verbal education. It's time for another kind of communication, don't you agree?"

Hermione certainly did.

* * *

The Potions master had shifted his position after plunging into Hermione's mouth so long and hard, her lips were swollen and she pleaded with him to stop. For the first time, she wasn't in control of a blowjob. Doing it had always put her in a position of power with the wizard she was with, and she wielded that power over her partner with confidence and assurance, doing what she wished, how she wished without complaints. Snape himself had given over to her manipulation of him, wanting whatever she would deign to give him. Initially, she had the dark wizard wrapped around her little finger, tongue or whatever part she touched him with.

If she had been wiser, this Hermione would have just focused on Snape and forgot about manipulating everyone she came in contact with. He was willing to accept her "cultural differences" and if she had just shown a little loyalty and appreciation, he would have been kinder to her now, and a much better lover.

As he sat on her belly and worked his cock between her breasts lustfully, pushing them around his shaft roughly and sawing through them, leaving her chest wet with her own saliva, Snape wasn't thinking of her pleasure or needs at all. He was treating her as a plaything, as just a body to slake his lust on. There would be no kisses, no caresses, no oral sex or tender contact of any type during this encounter. Hermione had used him callously, and now, he'd use her. She wouldn't walk away from this interlude feeling as if she'd given him something special, and as if she were special for doing so. He intended to make her feel as used as he felt. She could use a good dose of reality, and he was just the wizard to administer it.

Mistreatment was not Snape's natural inclination when it came to women. He didn't have the opportunity to deal with decent witches very often. He indulged himself with prostitutes from time to time, but he even treated them with more consideration than he was showing Hermione's counterpart. Yet, once in a rare moon, a woman might find him appealing for some reason or another, and return to his rooms with him.

The wizard was a fair judge of character, and although a witch consented to spend a night with him despite hardly knowing him, he didn't automatically assume she was loose or a slut, but a consenting adult who wanted to connect with him sexually. He didn't see anything wrong with a witch following her desires as long as she did it honestly and without strings.

And Snape was a total sensualist. He wasn't a man considered physically attractive at first contact, and even at second glance. He did have some issue with how he was perceived by women and as a result of that, made sure that he had something special to bring to the table when it came to intimacy. He believed in leaving a woman breathless and smitten with him, his looks forgotten. Often, it ended this way, and in a better world, Snape would be a happy and contented man, with a mate that suited and loved him.

But it wasn't a better world. It was just the world he lived in, harsh and cruel. A world of sacrifices and pain after pain after pain. Pleasure was in short supply and had to be gulped down quickly and greedily whenever it came his way. What made it worse was when Snape did have wonderful, sensual encounters with the rare witch, he couldn't afford to see her again. Obliviation was part of the close after he escorted her home. It was safer for everyone involved. Being a Death Eater's lover was dangerous enough, but being the lover of a Death Eater under constant scrutiny and suspicion was like suicide. Voldemort would surely pick up any woman Snape was interested in, and "question" her. Which translated to torturing and probably killing her. Not the best option for a lasting relationship.

But this Hermione had brought out the worst in Snape. He could be a vengeful man and he hated manipulation. Too bad for the witch, because he could have given her an experience that would have truly been earthshaking, in a good way. As it was, he was still going to give her an experience, but it would be torrid, dark and brutal. It would be what she had asked for as far as Snape was concerned, because of her thoughtless dismissal of him. After this, he was going to be cast aside for someone more physically attractive. Draco Malfoy. That spoiled pup born with a silver wand in his hand.

He had been willing to be the counterpart's focus at the start. He hadn't had sex of any type for some time when she walked into his world. But when she began to treat him like little more than a tool for working her wiles, and talking down to him as if he had no power of his own, she brought out the worst in the wizard. It must be so easy for her in her world, and she had no empathy for anyone whose life was difficult and challenging. Well, she'd learn about 'difficulty' tonight.

Snape grunted as he reached climax and caught hold of the base of his cock, hissing, "Open your mouth, slut!"

Hermione obediently did so as he shot his release into it and on her face, breathing heavily, watching as the thick white cream coated her tongue and dripped down her face. He quickly climbed off of her and out of the bed, standing before the witch holding his softening organ.

"Lick me clean," he purred.

Hermione obediently rolled over and exited the bed, kneeling before him, his come drying on her face and using her tongue to lick him clean as he frowned down at her. Most of her makeup was gone now, washed away by her watering eyes, but there were still streaks of black and red on her skin. Absently, he fisted his hand into her hair and jerked her head a bit, the witch letting out a noise, a kind of excited whimper as she looked up at him a moment, her eyes hot despite his continued mistreatment.

Apparently, Miss Granger was getting off on being treated like a piece of meat. It was slightly irritating to the wizard, but this was the easy part. He'd make sure to soundproof his rooms for the next.

There would be quite a bit of noise, he was sure.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but I have things on my mind. Things like my new granddaughter, Trinity Rose Kyles. She was born at 10:43 this morning (08/08/08) and weighed in at a respectable 7lbs 13oz. She has my middle name. My first and only namesake. Hard to write hard lemons when your hearts so full. Anyway, thanks for reading. Next chapter will be much juicier.


	22. A Dose of Reality 1

**Chapter 23 A Dose of Reality 1**

Once again, Hermione was lifted to the heights by the Transfiguration teacher's foreplay. Normally, extra credit didn't take this long, not much preparation necessary. Students came to him ready to do what needed to be done. To be honest, he could have engaged Hermione quicker than he was doing, and might have if he had someone following, but he was free for the rest of the night. Besides, it was rather delightful experiencing her responses as he kissed and licked her body.

Snape was still a teacher, and felt she should expect the best treatment from a wizard she engaged. As her first, he could instill this expectancy in her, hoping that she would never accept anything less from a lover. He could teach her to be demanding and a bit selfish when it came to sex.

Hermione arched and sighed under the wizard, particularly when his soft mouth moved over her breasts and belly, and she caressed him as well, feeling his muscles bunch and flex under her hand, alive, strong . . . sensual. His fingers tapped her skin, finding erotic zones, his lips following, pressed to her throat, her wrists, even her armpits, which tickled. He encouraged her to touch his cock, feel its weight, girth and hardness, as well as his balls, which were cool and delicate in her palm. He didn't encourage her to perform oral sex however. Maybe another time if she were willing.

Hermione gasped as the wizard turned her over to her stomach and rested his cock on her buttocks, sliding it gently through the cleft several times until she was squirming, the ache at her core becoming more intense as he kissed her shoulders, then followed her spine with his lips, running his tongue over the small of her back and gently biting at her buttocks, which were soft and full like twin pillows.

"Oh, Professor," Hermione groaned, her voice full of need as he turned her back over, looking down at her flushed and heated face. "I'm so ready for this."

He could smell the sweet, clean musk of her arousal now.

"Let me check," he breathed, kissing her mouth before sliding down her body and finding her core, pressing his lips to it and tasting her juices. They were sweet, earthy . . . fresh. Rare as well, and with Hermione crying out with pleasure, he held her thighs firmly and drank at that still undiscovered fountain, enjoying himself immensely. There was something that flavored the young witch that he found compelling.

Her innocence. He gently assailed her softness with his lips, teeth, tongue and nose until Hermione was nearly thrashing, her small hands tugging at his hair as she keened, Snape bringing her to her first oral climax and drinking down the richness that leaked around her unbroken mantle. His cock felt as heavy as a leaden pole as he tenderly licked away all the excess from her inner thighs, Hermione falling still and panting, a far-away look in her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. It was as if the world itself had lost all substance and become nothing more than a dream. It was the man kissing his way back up her body that was the true reality. She hadn't known contact with a wizard could be like this, so overwhelming, so urgent. It was as if her entire body were hungry, starving for only what he could deliver. Her skin was aflame, every nerve ending flared and firing for his touch. She felt beyond naked, as if everything inside her was exposed and wanting. She wanted to feel him on her, inside her, moving her, reaching her.

Helplessly she whispered this against his mouth, not caring how she sounded or what he might think of her, need overpowering, thought, modesty, embarrassment . . . anything that might have kept her silent only moments before.

He murmured something back. She couldn't register his words, only the sound of his voice, deep, silken, beautiful as his body shifted and he rested his hardness against her apex, slowly rubbing it back and forth, the delicious sensation making her body quake, her hands helpless clutching at his buttocks, pulling against him, feeling how slick his body was with sweat as she felt him flex.

"Now, Miss Granger," Snape purred, his black eyes drinking her need in. Yes, she was a passionate little witch, the kind a man would remember and want again and again, particularly when she came into her own. No, she didn't inspire the darkness in him that her counterpart did, the maddening urge to possess and punish even as he took his pleasure. But she inspired tenderness, a desire to complete her, to take her where she wanted to go.

He adjusted her shifting body as best he could, placing her in the Missionary position and lifting himself up on one hand as her brown eyes rested on him, liquid, needful and questioning all at once. What a look it was. He parted her thighs and pulled back a bit so he could rest his thick head against her core, and the thin membrane that separated them. Hermione rocked under him, tilting her pelvis reflexively, moaning as she felt him press against her, raising his upper body. He stared down at her, feeling her softness giving slightly against the pressure of his rigid member.

"Wrap your arms around my neck, Miss Granger," he said to her softly. "Hold on to me."

Hermione did, her mouth parted and moist as she stared up at him, totally taken by her own desire. Snape took a moment to kiss her softly, drawing back slowly and meeting her eyes. Hermione felt him tense for a moment as he held his breath. Then he drove forward, breaking the flesh and embedding his cock deep inside the witch as she let out a shuddering cry, her arms tightening, partially pulling herself up from the bed as her warm and softness wrapped around him tightly, clutching and sucking at the hard pole of flesh embedded in her body.

His penetration had hurt, but Hermione had never felt anything more right as the wizard rested inside her, holding very still and lowering himself on her body, his mouth finding hers again and kissing her tenderly. He didn't pull thrust, but pressed inside her, continuing foreplay for several minutes, connected to the witch intimately under she began her own jerky motions wanting more.

And Snape gave her what she wanted, giving her easy, tender strokes as he kissed her and caressed her, crooning his pleasure as her body caressed and bathed him, those soft, inner walls sliding around him as he shifted, making sure to stimulate her clit, Hermione moaning with pleasure as he moved inside her, driving gently into her ache, which was intensifying, becoming sharper, stronger, pulling her downward, making her react with more violence, thrusting upward with more hunger. Snape read this and lifted himself up on his hands and began to give her the power she needed to take her and him over the edge, thrusting inside her deeply, but not too deeply. He had a big cock and could probably cause her real pain. He found the depth and strength that she liked and applied himself, jerking her body faster and faster, listening to her voice become shriller and shriller, wincing a bit as she dug her nails into the small of his back in reaction.

They flowed and rippled together as one body, point and counterpoint, sweat streaming, wetting the sheets beneath them, Hermione's cries rising and falling rhythmically as the wizard on top of her gave her what she needed and received his own reward when she let out a cry and melted around him, her orgasm flowing hot and rich over his cock like magma.

"Yessss!" he hissed, letting go, letting pleasure tighten inside him then explode, rushing down his spine, through his body and outward, shuddering as he plunged deep inside Hermione, filling her with his seed, dropping to her body with a satisfied groan and kissing her mouth as she shuddered under him. They lay against each other, feeling their racing hearts slow, the professor caressing her hair gently.

"One hundred points, Miss Granger," he breathed against her temple with a sigh, "and twenty-five more for the shower."

Hermione barely registered this as she lay comfortable under his weight, feeling him deflating inside her. Gods, that had been amazing.

After about ten minutes, Snape rolled off her and on to his back, looking up at the ceiling.

"That was quite pleasurable for me, Miss Granger. I hope it was for you as well," he said to the witch.

Pleasurable? It had been . . . wonderful. He was wonderful. Hermione looked at him.

"It was wonderful," she said to him softly. She moved closer to kiss his cheek. The wizard stiffened a little but allowed it. Still, the session was over now. It was clear that the witch wanted to "cuddle" as she shifted closer to him.

Cuddling wasn't allowed.

Snape was trying to figure out a way to tell Hermione this, when there was a tinging sound, originating from the dresser. Snape quickly sat up in the bed and slid out of it.

"That's for me," he said, walking over to the dresser and picking up a two-way mirror. He stared into it.

"Severus Snape," he said.

The image of a woman formed in the glass. She had red hair, blue eyes and a lovely full mouth. She quirked her lips at him

"Hey lover-boy," she purred at him.

"Triska!" Snape replied, clearly delighted.

Hermione sat up in the bed, listening as the naked wizard talked to another woman in the mirror. She felt . . . forgotten as he picked up his wand and wordlessly Scourgified himself.

"So, have you finished with your nine o'clock?" the witch asked him.

"Yes, just now," he replied, picking up his boxers with one hand and stepping into them as Hermione watched, feeling a bit cold inside. She could hear the woman clearly.

"So how was it, popping a cherry?" she asked him with a smile.

"It was good," he replied. "She has a lot of potential. Very passionate for an inexperienced witch."

"Too bad she wasn't the one you really wanted to get at," Triska said, "but you can take your frustrations out on me and Deidre when you come home this weekend. Maybe I'll glamour myself."

Snape chuckled, then walked into the bathroom, collecting Hermione's things as he talked to his lover. He brought them back to her, placing them on the bed.

"You can get dressed," he said, flicking his wand at her and cleaning her up, then walking back and retrieving his housecoat and slippers, putting them on and walking out into his study.

Hermione sat in the bed for a moment, then slowly climbed out of it, and began to dress . . . . the feeling of connection and contentment . . . gone.

As wonderful as sex had been with the wizard, she could clearly see it meant very little to him. As far as the Head of Gryffindor house went, it was business as usual. Pleasant business, but business just the same.

Now fully dressed, Hermione walked into the study to find the wizard sitting behind the desk, still talking in the mirror while wiping the laminated parchment clean with a damp cloth, removing all the check marks he had placed there earlier. He put it in the top drawer and looked up at Hermione with a smile.

"I'll be right with you," he said to the witch, then, "Triska, I have to go. I'll see you and Deidre Friday night. Be ready, witch. It's going to be a wild ride for the both of you."

Triska's laughter rang from the mirror.

"Good night, Severus. Love you."

"Love you too," he said.

The mirror returned to a regular reflection and he placed it on the desk, then rose and walked around it, approaching Hermione, who looked at him rather blankly as he smiled down at her.

"I've recorded your extra credit, Miss Granger," he said to the witch, offering her a pass back to Gryffindor tower. "You did well your first time. Now, go directly to your house. Filch shouldn't be a problem. Good night."

"Good night," Hermione said hollowly, turning and exiting the wizard's quarters.

Snape stretched luxuriously, then headed for his own bedroom. He was relaxed and tired.

He'd be good for the next few days.

* * *

Hermione walked the halls of Hogwarts in a kind of daze. Sex with the professor had felt so good. It seemed as if he really felt something for her, something meaningful. But, that mirror call proved that he didn't. She felt like a patient he had seen or something, the way the woman asked if his "nine o'clock" was finished. Then, he even gave her a kind of evaluation of Hermione's sexual performance.

Passionate for an inexperience witch.

There was another knot in her stomach now, one that had nothing to do with desire, or attraction. It was . . . regret. She had allowed herself to get caught up by her body's urges and she really wasn't ready for the reality that was bound to follow. As attracted as she was to this world's Severus Snape, there was no hope of anything more with the wizard. It was clear he had a private life he was satisfied with, and any intimacy with students was just part of his job. Maybe a part that brought him pleasure, but it was within an established framework, with rules and limitations. He wasn't invested in those he shared himself with.

And in this world, that was completely acceptable.

But in Hermione's world . . . it stung.

Gods, she was so ready to go home now. Tonight's encounter proved without a doubt, this wasn't the world for her. She could never adapt to either the cruelty or the freedom. Every time she saw the professor now, she knew that it would hurt her heart. Unlike him, she had invested her emotions in their encounter; felt it was something special that happened between them.

The truth was . . . it wasn't.

And the truth hurt.

* * *

A/N: A very mixed chapter. I think it was important to show just how not made for this world Hermione is. She gave in to her urges and tried to get with the program and traditions. I think she turned to Snape because he was familiar and kind, a kind of port in the storm and it was easy to pretend he had some personal attraction to her. And he was kind in his way, and good to her. Patient, tender and so forth. But it was all within the structure of his culture. So while her physical experience with Snape was good, she was unprepared for the emotional wasteland that followed. In fact, our Hermione saw the AU Snape much like her counterpart originally saw our Snape, as a familiar port in a storm, a taste of home. Unfortunately, she was mistaken as well. Thanks for reading.


	23. A Dose of Reality 2

**Chapter 24 A Dose of Reality 2**

"That's enough," Snape hissed at the witch licking between his toes as he lay on his back, propped up on his elbows.

After coating her breasts and throat with come, the wizard set Hermione about cooling down his body . . . with her tongue, front and back. By the time she finished, his erection was back with a vengeance. He sat up, and caught her by a hank of hair and pulled her forward so they were face to face, Hermione straddling his long, pale legs.

The witch said nothing as she looked into his narrowed, cold eyes. He didn't want her speaking unless spoken to and asked to respond.

"I can smell you," Snape said with deceptive softness. "You are a twisted, sick little witch to get off on this kind of treatment. I know you've been sexually active for at least two years, the wizards in your world getting off on fucking children . . . "

Hermione wanted to stand up for her world. Fifteen was not a child. Just because these repressed bastards thought a pussy didn't ripen until at least the age of seventeen didn't mean it was true. And anyway, most started out with wizards their own age and didn't engage anyone older until they got the gist of it. Hermione's first encounter had been a threesome with Fred and George Weasley, both of whom had been anxiously awaiting her fifteenth birthday. Actually, that's how Ron made it in after his brothers graduated and Hermione had developed a taste for them. What made it easier to engage the redheaded wizards was that fact that their Pureblood status was always in question and most believed they did have Muggle blood. Add to that the fact that Arthur Weasley associated closely with Muggles, and the Weasley family was more palatable than most. She fucked Harry because he was famous and always facing death, which she found a turn on.

Harry fucked her because he could. She was very selective.

But her selectiveness wasn't doing a thing for her now as she faced Snape, who suddenly fell to his back, reached around her and grasped the base of his swollen cock. He slapped it against her ass several times, stinging her flesh because he was so hard.

"Get on it," he told her, still grasping his tool and slapping her breasts hard with his other hand as she shifted, lifting her body. She gasped as he settled against her wet core, rubbing the head over her clit and spreading her juices, his hand getting wet in the process.

The witch was dripping.

"Come on!" he snarled, suddenly grasping her shoulders and pulling her down hard, sliding her sleeve over his enormous cock, fighting back a groan as he embedded himself inside her. As angry as he was, it had been a long time since he'd stuck his wand in a woman, and despite Hermione's character, her pussy felt divine.

Hermione's eyes widened as she slid over him, then went half-lidded. He was huge. Fucking huge. It felt as if a Quidditch bat was thrust inside her, and he wasn't even all the way in. Snape lay steady, looking at her for a moment, before bringing his wet hand to her mouth.

"Lick it clean," he ordered.

Hermione obediently licked her own lubrication off the wizard's pale hand. Snape rubbed it across her lips a few times until he was satisfied she'd gotten every drop, then folded his arms under his head, his face contorting.

"You're tighter than I thought you'd be, but then again, with a cock the size of mine, tightness is rarely an issue," he said to the witch. "Now, start riding. Show me what years of using your pussy as a weapon has gotten you, Miss Granger."

Snape planned to fuck the witch to tears, but if she had skills, he certainly wanted to enjoy them first. He let out a surprised groan as Hermione rippled her inner muscles over him, not moving yet. It was exquisite. As if she had tiny fingers inside her twat that massaged his length independently. Then, he let out a surprised gasp as her pussy sucked on just his embedded head as if a mouth were situated at the very end of it. The wizard grasped the witch's waist hard with both hands, squeezing her in reaction.

"What is that? What are you doing?" he hissed, angry at his own response to the little bitch.

Hermione couldn't help a small, victorious smirk.

"I use a jade egg," she said quietly, her brown eyes resting on him. "It gives me amazing muscle control. I can make a wizard come without moving, just with massage if I want to."

"You're a talented little whore, aren't you?" Snape snapped.

He was angry that she did indeed have something special about her. He hadn't counted on that.

"I'm talented," the witch replied, "as to my being a whore, that's a matter of perspective."

In response, Snape suddenly gripped Hermione's shoulders and pulled her downward, driving hard into the witch and making her shriek from his power and depth. Then he pulled her forward, so she lay face to face with him.

"In this situation, Miss Granger, it is only my perspective that matters," he growled, wrapping his arms tight around her body and lustfully showing her his own "talent."

"I'm no jade egg," he breathed at the shrieking witch as he poured it on.

The Potions master showed the witch no mercy as he fucked her brutally, slamming his cock into her with all the power he could muster, slinging her around the bed and pinning her arms behind her back as he took her doggie style, plowing her across the bed and into the headboard before dragging her back like a carriage return, driving her forward again.

He fell to the side, lifting her leg and entering her from behind, his pale hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing as he buried himself in the witch to the hilt. Periodically, he'd withdraw and clamber up, making her suck her juices off his cock and not allowing her to come. He could feel the telltale clench and pulled away, finding satisfaction in roughly wrestling her and subduing her until he felt he could enter the witch again.

Hermione had never been treated in such a manner. There was no appreciation, only taking, devouring, claiming her body nearly soullessly, the wizard's face twisted in derision as she cried out under him. At one point, when taking her from behind, her wrists locked in one pale hand, he shifted, stretching out one long leg and pressing his foot on her head, holding it down as he slammed into her viciously. Her cries were like a balm, and he fucked her until she was raw.

Then, he buggered her, slapping her ass with his palm until it was flaming red. This wasn't the kind of spanking done for sexual pleasure, where the blows were carefully manipulated and glancing. He meant to bring her pain, but stopped before his attentions turned black and blue. Then he crouched over Hermione, standing on his feet and locking the sobbing witch in a semi-full nelson, riding her ass until she begged and pleaded with him to let her go back to Slytherin house.

Snape released her, pulling out of her puckerhole, eyeing its gaping mouth between her reddened buttocks with satisfaction. It didn't look as if it would recover for a week. He roughly wrenched her around, bringing her face close to his cock and began jerking it, ordering her to lick his balls as he moved toward final release, one hand resting on the back of her head as her tongue flicked over him. She was still shuddering and her entire body was flushed, her hair a total mess. Snape's head was cocked as he looked down at her, his tightly wrapped hand moving over his shaft quickly, pleasure welling up.

"Turn your face upward and look at me!" he cried, pulling back a ways and spurting in Hermione's face just as she did so, the witch blinking madly as his come hit her open eyes.

"Yeeeessss. Oh, yesssss!" Snape breathed, smearing it into her skin with his other hand, his chest rising and falling from his release. He dropped into the bed on his knees, his head leaning forward as he panted. As soon as his breathing slowed, he looked at the witch.

"Get out," he said coldly. "I'll retrieve your wand. I suggest you think twice if you are considering using it on me."

Hermione couldn't respond. She had lost her voice from screaming. All she wanted to do was get out of here and get to her healing bag. She ached inside and out. It was difficult getting out of the bed. Snape watched her without evidencing a shred of sympathy. He flicked his wand at the door to unward it and watched as she exited, her ass still flaming, her steps slow. He hadn't even Scourgified her.

Let her do it herself.

When Hermione exited, Snape climbed out of the bed, Scourgified himself and slipped on his robes. Then he walked into the study and watched as Hermione painfully put on her robes, having nothing underneath because he had shredded her bra and knickers. He unwarded his desk and retrieved her wand. He handed it to her, his eyes sharp.

But Hermione simply Scourgified herself as best she could. Snape let her out of his study, and then his office. She looked at him standing in the doorway.

"Paid in full, Miss Granger," he purred at her, then closed the door in her face with finality.

She stood there, aching and feeling as if her body no longer belonged to her. She had never been with a wizard that was so cruel and vindictive for less reason. Snape knew what she was about. They had a deal, and she was more than willing to pay up when he provided what he did. But she hadn't counted on his jealousy. In her world, jealousy was senseless and frowned upon. What a person did with someone else had no bearing on a separate relationship, and sex was fair barter. Snape's treatment of her was completely unwarranted, no matter how he justified it. He truly was an evil wizard, more evil than anyone she'd encountered in her own world. Wizards there treated sex with her as a privilege. Snape acted as if it were his right, as if he owned her.

Part of her had enjoyed his brutal treatment until it became too much, and he refused to stop until she was nearly insane with pain. And then, just a "get out" and nothing more. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger knew what it was like to be treated like she didn't matter, like she was . . . .trash. Something she did to others all the time. It wasn't a good feeling.

She wanted to go home.

Hermione slowly walked to Slytherin house. The common room was dark, thank goodness. No one was about. She made her way to her room, unwarding the door and turning up the torches with her wand. She made her way over to her dresser, opened up the healing bag and took out the powerful pain potion the Potions master had provided her with. She uncapped it and drank it down. After a minute or two, the worst of her ache was gone, although she could still feel the effects of her night with the wizard.

She turned to look at the Mirror of Erised, longing in her eyes . . . before she froze.

She saw herself, but she wasn't standing in front of the mirror. She was lying in bed on her back, in her robes and staring up at the ceiling. Her hair was nice and curly, not stiff and ugly as it was now. That was her counterpart.

That was the other Hermione Granger!

She ran up to the mirror and starting banging on it.

"Over here! Look over here!" she cried at her mirror image, who didn't respond.

"Look over here, you stupid bitch! I want to come home!" she raged.

Suddenly, Hermione looked over and saw the Mirror of Aversion showing a very disheveled image of herself, beating on the glass. She sat up.

It was her counterpart!

Hermione stood up and slowly approached the mirror. The other Hermione stopped banging on the glass and watched her approach, then pause and pick up a thick envelope, slipping it into her robes.

She didn't care what that envelope was as the witch approached. They stood, staring at each other.

"I want to come home," Gryffindor Hermione mouthed.

Slytherin Hermione studied her. Her counterpart's eyes seemed so sad, as if . . . as if she'd been hurt in some way. Well, she probably had. She'd get over it.

Slytherin Hermione slowly placed her hand on the glass, staring at the reflection raising its hand as well. They both connected and the mirrors began to shimmer, magic rising around them. Once again the glass of the mirrors became like water, and both were drawn in, and then through each other, eyes closed and the world whirling around them as they reversed, returning to the worlds they belonged in.

Both witches opened their eyes and stared at each other. Slytherin Hermione nodded at Hermione, then turned and walked out the door, no doubt heading for Slytherin house.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, then turned to look at her room. She was in Slytherin. She didn't want to be here in the morning, so she too, exited her room, walking carefully through the unfamiliar place, entering the common room, passing through the damp corridor and pressing her hands all around the wall that led to the dungeon corridor. Luckily, she found some kind of trigger and it opened.

She walked briskly up the hall, not caring if Filch caught her or not. She approached the Potions office and the memory of the other Snape popped into her head unbidden. She tried to push him down, but then, something else rose in her mind. Oh no!

She hadn't had a chance to drink the contraceptive potion! Oh, damn it.

Hermione wasn't sure what time it was, but this was an emergency. She needed the After Sex potion immediately. She doubted Poppy would have any. She usually only carried it when there were to be balls and spiked punch. The only one who kept a year around supply was professor Snape, simply because he liked to have various potions on hand.

Hermione steeled herself, then knocked hard on the office door.

There was no answer.

She knocked harder.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open and professor Snape appeared, his black eyes glittering down at her, his face screwed up in distaste.

"What the fuck are you doing back here?" he hissed at her. "Get back to Slytherin before I give you more of the same treatment!"

Hermione blinked up at him.

"Professor Snape?" she said, her voice quavering. She didn't know what was going on.

There was something about the witch's voice that made him pause. Snape studied her face, and especially her hair, which was nothing like the rat's nest Hermione wore when leaving. Then he looked into those eyes, those timid brown eyes looking back at him, full of confusion and yes . . . the vestiges of innocence.

"Miss Granger?" he asked, his pale face incredulous. "Our Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, sir. I've just come back . . . I haven't even been to Gryffindor tower yet. I . . . I need to get a potion from you, sir. It's important, and I don't think Madam Pomfrey has it," she said tremulously.

The stunned wizard opened the door wider.

"Forgive me for my less than stellar greeting, Miss Granger. I didn't realize who you were. Come in," he said softly.

Hermione entered his office and Snape closed the door behind her. Hermione turned to face him.

"And welcome home," he said.

* * *

A/N: I didn't go into much depth with Slytherin Hermione and our Snape. Just enough to give ya'll the gist of it. Well, the witches are home now. Let's see what else happens. Thanks for reading.


	24. Home Sweet Home

**Chapter 25 Home Sweet Home**

Hermione happily made her way down the shifting stairwells, hurried through the narrow staircase that led to the first floor corridor and rushed down the marble stairwell, ready to turn into the narrow dungeon passageway when she ran smack dab into Filch, who grinned horrendously.

"Ah, out after curfew again, Miss Granger," the wizard said to her delightedly, as Hermione's shoulders slumped. Damn it. She wished he was the other Filch, then she could have hexed him, the old squib.

"I don't think professor Snape will take another caning for you though," the caretaker said, "so just come along and take your licks."

"What? Snape took a caning for me?" Hermione said, surprised.

Filch frowned at her for a moment, then looked at her closely. Her hair was a wreck and she didn't have on any makeup, but there was something familiar about her. Her surprise seemed genuine.

"Are you our Miss Granger?" Filch asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"Yes. I just returned and I had to get out of Gryffindor tower as soon as I could. I wasn't about to spend the night there. I wanted to get back to Slytherin as soon as possible," she told him.

"Well, welcome back. Now, let's go," he said to the witch, taking her arm.

Hermione sighed and walked along with the wizard. Her ass wasn't as sore as it was, thanks to the healing potion, but it was still tender. Caning wasn't going to help a bit. Then she got an idea.

"You know, Mr. Filch, in that other world, you're a squib," she said to him carelessly.

Filch stopped walking and scowled.

"What?" he snarled.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you were. And McGonagall was the Transfiguration teacher. She looked old and pinched as a prune . . . and . . . and . . ."

Suddenly she stopped.

"What else?" Filch asked, intrigued.

"Oh, I don't have time to tell you. I'm tired and want to get through the caning so I can get to bed. It should only take a couple of minutes, right? I'm sure the Headmaster will brief you with the rest of the staff after I report to him," Hermione said, walking forward and pulling the wizard with her.

Filch stalled.

"Listen," he said in a conspiratory voice, "I'm the one who decides the punishment. Caning isn't mandatory, just the most usual punishment. How about you give me fifteen minutes of lowdown and I'll let you go to Slytherin without your knickers coming down?"

Hermione agreed. She knew Filch was too nosey to pass up being first to get the dirt.

It felt great to be back where everything was familiar and controllable.

* * *

"Thank you, sir. It's good to be back," Hermione replied, nervously clasping her hands together. Snape was quite familiar with that action. The witch was very disturbed about something. Probably the potion.

"What potion are you in need of?" he asked her curiously, watching her eyes shift about then settle on the floor before she answered him.

"I need . . . the After Sex potion, sir," she said softly, not looking at him.

Both of Snape's eyebrows rose, but all he said was, "Very well, Miss Granger. Wait here and I will retrieve it."

He billowed out the room, Hermione looking after him in surprise. Professor Snape usually wasn't this accommodating. It was surprising that he didn't try to embarrass her.

But Snape was deep in thought as he walked to his potions stores. How much of a coincidence was it that Miss Granger obviously had sex approximately the same time her counterpart did? Probably, not much at all since the alternate world might be in loose synch with this one. But who did she have sex with?

Could it have been his counterpart? The Hermione he engaged had said the Snape in her world was an idealist. A good man in a world that didn't appreciate good men, believing them to be weak. As a Gryffindor, Hermione might have gravitated to him as someone safe. Could she have tried to fit into that world to the extent of sleeping with him?

Interesting. Very interesting.

Snape retrieved the potion and returned to the office. He handed her the bottle.

"Drink it all down, Miss Granger," he told her, watching as the blushing witch unscrewed the top and consumed the contents. She handed the empty bottle back to him, still unable to look him in the face.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome, Miss Granger," Snape replied, still studying her.

Hermione was again surprised by his politeness. Snape put the bottle into his pocket, then walked around his desk, picking up a quill and tearing a piece of parchment off a small pad.

"I will give you a pass to Gryffindor, so you won't lose points if you encounter Filch," he said to her, starting to write.

Hermione remembered something.

"Um, I need to see the Headmaster first. I have something for him and it's time sensitive," she said to the wizard, who looked up at her.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

Hermione blinked at him, not sure if she should tell him or not. Snape saw her hesitance.

"Tell me this instant, Miss Granger," he growled at her, sounding more like his old self.

Hermione knew Snape could be trusted.

"It's a message from Tom Riddle," she said, "I have to get it to the Headmaster . . . because, because it has to be answered within a certain period of time and returned to him. He . . .he cast a hex on me . . ."

Snape frowned.

"What kind of hex, Miss Granger?" he responded, a bit of a cold feeling in his belly. Tom Riddle casting a hex on someone in any world didn't bode well.

"I don't know. All I know is he said that if I don't return an answer to him in time, I'll die," she nearly whispered. "And if anyone tampers with it . . . I'll die. So, you see . . . it's important."

Snape stared at her, then said, "Wait here."

He disappeared into the open wall and into his private quarters. He reappeared five minutes later, in his teaching robes and boots.

"I've contacted the Headmaster via the Floo, Miss Granger. He's waiting for us. Come into my quarters. We'll take the Floo," he said to the witch.

Hermione followed him into his austere quarters, not having time to look about as he guided her to the Floo, which still had green flames in it.

"Go through, Miss Granger," he told her.

* * *

After receiving the parchment from Hermione and welcoming her back home, Albus sent her directly to Gryffindor house, asking Snape to stay as he opened the parchment. The Potions master watched the Headmaster's expression change from curiosity to wonder as he read the first few pages. His blue eyes suddenly lifted and settled on Snape, no evidence of twinkle in them.

"Severus, I'm going to need your services," he said to the wizard soberly.

Snape nodded slightly, as Albus handed several pages to him.

He began to read.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, running down the stairs and leaping into a startled Harry's arms, hugging him tightly as everyone stared at her. Her hair was still nice and curly, and she wore just a hint of make-up, since she was used to putting it on now. But not as much as she wore in the other world. She looked natural, just a bit augmented.

"Hermione?" Harry said as soon as he could breathe. He saw her breathless smile and grinned. "Hermione! You're back!"

"Yes! I am, and I'm so glad. It was horrible, Harry. Just horrible," she said releasing him as everyone gathered around her and welcomed her back. Ron tried to sneak in a kiss on the lips in the hubbub, but got a sound slap from Hermione.

"Ow! Some welcome back," he griped, rubbing his cheek.

"I'm happy to see you too, Ron," Hermione said to him with a crooked smile.

Everyone wanted to hear what the alternate universe was like and any difficulties she had.

"Well, Parvati tried to poison me . . . twice," she said as the Indian witch looked at her in shock. "I think she had some issues with the other Hermione and didn't want her to come back. She wasn't after me, per se, but . . ."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Hermione," Parvati cried.

Hermione gave her a smile.

"It's not like it was really you, Parvati," she said, leaving out the fact she nearly killed her counterpart in return. That wouldn't help the situation any.

"What were we like, Hermione?" Ron asked her enthusiastically. "Me and Harry? Were we bastards as Slytherins?"

"Oh yeah," she said, reddening a little. She thought she'd keep the fact that she, he and Harry were all lovers, in every sense of the word to herself. She didn't know how they'd handle the idea that they were butt buddies in an alternate universe. Or, maybe she'd save it for when Ron really pissed her off.

No one could get over the fact that Tom Riddle supported Muggle-Borns and didn't like Purebloods in that world.

"Man, we need him here," Ron said as everyone murmured agreement. "He'd probably break up the Death Eaters completely."

"And he looks normal. No scales. And he has a phoenix for a familiar. I think its name is Fawkes too, but he's darker, has black eyes and doesn't sing. I got a kind of evil feeling from him. Riddle is still mean however, but not as bad as Voldemort as far as I could see."

Hermione told them a little more, then listened to the stories about her counterpart. How anti-social she was and how she hexed all of them and got sent to Slytherin house.

"She didn't like any of us," Harry said, shaking his head. "She wouldn't even give us a chance. She said she hated Gryffindor house."

"Her world is very different than ours, Harry. Slytherins there are worse than here I think. Hexing is allowed, and you only get point loss when you don't do extra credit. Instead of losing points and detention for breaking rules, you get tortured. I think caned mostly. I almost got caned, but professor Snape took my punishment for me."

Everyone gasped.

"Professor Snape? Are you sure?" Ron asked her. "Things were pretty turned around there."

"I'm sure. He was a Gryffindor and the Transfiguration teacher. His animagus form was a black cat with a white face and white paws. Professor McGonagall was the Potions mistress. It was so weird."

"I'll say. It must be good to be back home, Hermione," Ginny said to her with a smile.

"You have no idea," she agreed, hugging Harry again.

Her life had changed somewhat because of her short time in the other world, but still much of it remained the same. She had her friends and they would always be there for her. She also had her memories of her first time. It had been wonderful in and of itself. It was everything else that sucked. But . . . now that she was home again, it was all right. Nothing was broken, and she'd always remember the kind, passionate but callous professor Snape of that world.

As she walked with the rest of her housemates down to breakfast, Hermione began to feel a bit better. Everyone made mistakes, didn't they? It's what they learned from them that mattered the most. Some things had to be let go.

Unfortunately, when she looked up at the dais and saw professor Snape sitting there, looking back at her, she knew not everything would be let go. He'd be a constant reminder of her night with his counterpart for as long as she lived.

* * *

Albus made a formal announcement that Hermione had returned, to cheers and applause from everyone except Gryffindor. Draco looked at her with narrowed eyes, thinking how she'd take the knowledge that her counterpart had let Snape fuck her. The Slytherin was in sour grapes mode now, not sure how he felt about what transpired, but rather angry he didn't have a chance to find out. He felt cheated. He wished Granger could have stayed away a bit longer. Well, he'd take it out on her anyway as soon as he got the chance.

After breakfast, Hermione was called to the Headmaster's office. Professor Snape was there, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Albus got right to the point.

"Miss Granger, at precisely six o'clock this evening you will return to the room off the third floor corridor and the Mirror of Erised. Your counterpart will be waiting for you. You will exchange places. She will remain in the room while you will be met outside the room by Tom Riddle himself and give him my answer. He will accept the information, remove the spell from you, and you will re-enter the room and return to us. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Hermione said.

Snape could see the witch was brimming over with curiosity.

"Ah, Headmaster . . . what did the message say?" she asked him, hoping her status as courier-under-duress would make her privy to at least some of the information.

"I'm afraid the nature of the message must be kept under tight security. Suffice it to say, Miss Granger, it is very important. That's all you need to know at this time," the old wizard said softly. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more. Be here at a quarter to six to retrieve the missive. Professor Snape will escort you to the mirror and stand watch outside. You may go."

Hermione glanced at Snape, who looked at her steadily, then left the office, her belly all aflutter because of both the wizard and her upcoming return to the alternate universe.

"That's quite a brave young lady," Kingsley said. "She didn't protest at all."

"Gryffindors are born martyrs. They don't have sense enough to protest," Snape sneered.

But he was just being contrary for the sake of it. Miss Granger was indeed a brave witch.

Albus looked at Severus.

"You haven't protested either, Severus, and it is a far more dangerous role that you will play," the Headmaster said.

Snape snorted.

"I learned long ago protestations don't work with either you or the Dark Lord, Albus. The best I can do is carry out my missions as expediently as possible, hoping I will survive them," he replied coldly.

Albus nodded gravely. The Potions master was only speaking the truth.

"But, if you pull this off, Severus, your life of expediency may well be over," he told the dark wizard.

"Let's just hope my actual life remains intact, Headmaster," Snape answered, his face contorting slightly.

"If you act with your usual deviousness, it should. Tomorrow evening you will spend a few hours with Miss Granger, finding out as much as you can about that world in greater detail. Make sure you grill her thoroughly, Severus. It means the difference between success and failure. You must get Voldemort interested by the established date."

"I'll do my best," Snape replied.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	25. Delivered Messages & Broken Agreements

**Chapter 26 Delivered Messages and Broken Agreements**

Hermione's reappearance in Slytherin house sparked a small dueling situation the next morning, the witch having to blast several housemates before they realized their real housemate had returned. Harry and Ron were ecstatic and tried to crush her between them bodily before she pushed them away with a scowl.

"Down boys!" she exclaimed as they both grinned at her.

Parvati was furious and wasted no time raining on Hermione's parade.

"Your marks in Transfiguration are up," the witch said snidely.

Everyone fell silent as Hermione looked at Parvati.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Your counterpart arranged extra credit with Snape last night. She didn't return for a couple of hours," the witch said. "I heard it through the grapevine via a couple of Gryffindors while I patrolled last night."

Hermione reddened but didn't say anything. Ron did, however.

"So what? It isn't as if you shagged him, Hermione. You got extra credit for free," he told the witch. "It doesn't get better than that. No shame on your part."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his green eyes dark. "Your counterpart was soft as a pastie. A complete turn-off. You should have seen how she reacted when Ron and I showed up in your room the night you left. We didn't know what had happened then and came to sandwich you in. She nearly had a heart attack."

"And she was a virgin. Can you believe it? At eighteen. Damn," Ron piped in.

Again, Hermione didn't say anything, but if her counterpart had indeed slept with professor Snape, she had given up her virginity to him. Normally, virginity meant very little in their world, but the idea of the Gryffindor Head of House being the first man to pop her cherry was unsettling. But she didn't know why it was. It didn't happen to her after all.

They headed down to breakfast together as they normally did, Draco Malfoy grimacing slightly as he watched Hermione enter. It was clear to see the original Granger was back, and any chance he had of getting at her, was gone. He looked up at professor Snape, whose dark eyes rested on the witch thoughtfully. Hermione played it off well as she sat down at the table, but she felt self-conscious. She looked directly at Snape and frowned at him, but the wizard simply smirked back at her.

The bastard. He was gloating. Even if he hadn't had her, he had a reasonable facsimile, and it would soon be common knowledge.

Well, she planned to have a little talk with the wizard, one that would wipe that smirk right off his face. He was Gryffindor Snape, not the Slytherin she'd tangled with. This Snape, she could handle.

Unfortunately, that little talk would have to wait. She was informed that she was to go directly to the Headmaster's office after breakfast, and warned not to dally.

* * *

Hermione spent a painful morning undergoing Tom probing her mind using Legilimency. In her world, it was an agonizing experience, and none of the students were taught Occlumency, so there was no defense against it. The wizard saw everything she experienced, every act she had performed, including her interludes with one Severus Snape.

"Now, that is a Snape I could deal with," Tom said as he withdrew from Hermione's mind, looking at her with a slight smirk. "He certainly pulled no punches, or should I say strokes with you, did he, Miss Granger? It seemed despite his darkness, he just couldn't' fully get with the program. A pity."

Hermione colored, and Tom's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"A blush? From you? Evidently the wizard made quite an impression on you."

"He treated me like trash . . . and . . . and he made me feel like trash," she said in a low voice. "But all I did was business as usual, Headmaster. Tit for tat."

Tom nodded.

"Business as usual was apparently unacceptable to the wizard, although he agreed to it. He sounded quite jealous of the other Malfoy. Perhaps he believed you should have only gravitated to him. But, I'm sure you've learned something, Miss Granger. Never tell anyone your complete plans. If you had let the wizard believe you two would continue, I have no doubt he would have been less brutal. You must develop your wiles, Miss Granger. You are too used to everything going your way. It's time to grow up and I believe Mr. Snape has started you on your path. Remember, truth and honesty are highly overrated. Distortion of facts and concealment work much better in the real world."

Hermione nodded as Tom sat down at his desk.

"Now, this evening at six o'clock, you will go to the third floor corridor and look into the Mirror of Noisreva, meeting and exchanging places with your counterpart, who will have a message for me. You are not to leave that room. She will return shortly and you will once again exchange places," he told the witch.

Hermione looked as if she wanted to protest. She'd just gotten back and if she never entered that world again, it would be fine with her. But Tom's narrowed eyes made her bite her tongue. He wouldn't hesitate to hex her into compliancy.

He enjoyed it.

"Yes, sir," she said, then looked at him curiously.

"What is the message concerning, Headmaster?" she asked him.

Tom studied her.

"Personal business, Miss Granger. Nothing that concerns you. You may leave. I will meet you near the third floor corridor at five to six. Don't be late," he said, his dark eyes still narrowed.

"I won't be," Hermione said, rising and leaving the wizard's presence.

Despite their occasional dalliances, Hermione knew if she were late, she could count on a torture far worse than Filch's canings from the Headmaster.

She'd be on time.

* * *

Severus Snape met Hermione outside the Great Hall, the witch leaving in the middle of supper as the Potions master slipped out of the teacher's exit.

"Oy! Where are you going, Hermione?" Ron said, his mouth full of chicken.

"I have to do something," she said obliquely as Harry looked up at her with concern in his eyes.

Although Hermione seemed happy to be back, it seemed as if something wasn't quite right with her. It wasn't anything Harry could put his finger on, but a kind of vibe coming off the witch, as if she were hiding something. But one thing you couldn't do was push Hermione. If she didn't want to tell you something, and you pestered her, it was quite possibly you'd end up with a bat bogey plastered to your face.

He'd wait to see if she came around.

Snape met Hermione near the marble stairwell and handed her a thick envelope. Silently, they walked up the staircase to the first floor, then up the narrow staircase that led to the second floor and access to the shifting stairs. They rode up one more flight.

Snape could feel the witch's tenseness as he billowed beside her, but offered nothing. There was nothing he could offer, although he empathized with her. He'd been used as a pawn for most of his life, delivering messages and often being punished for it. At least Hermione's service would be quick, then she'd be out of danger for good. After that message was delivered, and Snape questioned her, it was up to him.

They walked down the armor-lined corridor and stopped in front of the room.

"Good luck, Miss Granger. I will be right here when you return," he said to the witch, his black eyes resting on her thoughtfully.

"All right, Professor," she said weakly, opening the door and entering the room. She quailed a little as she saw the Mirror of Erised, and her scowling counterpart standing in front of it looking as if she'd rather be anywhere else.

Hermione walked up to the mirror and studied the reflection, who studied her back. Gryffindor Hermione looked much better than she did when first viewed. At least something good had rubbed off.

Hermione raised her hand to the glass, and the other Hermione sullenly did the same. They shifted positions, passing through each other, Slytherin Hermione folding her arms and glaring at the witch as if to say, "Hurry up, damn it!"

Hermione walked to the door that opened on the corridor and let herself out. Tom Riddle was waiting, a broad smile on his face. The wizard snatched the thick packet from her, holding it up as if it were a great treasure.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You may return," he said, not taking his eyes off the envelope.

"But, what about the hex? I brought you what you wanted," she told the wizard, scowling at him.

Tom looked at her, craftiness in his black eyes as he drew his wand.

"Ah, yes. My insurance . . . "

He flicked the wand at Hermione and she felt coldness once again sink into her bones. That didn't feel right. Not at all.

"You didn't remove the hex!" she exclaimed, furious.

Tom looked at her with a slight smirk.

"Quite an astute observation, Miss Granger. I've come to the conclusion that you are important to your Headmaster for some reason. He was quite punctual in his response, which leads me to believe he doesn't want you to come to harm. So you see, my dear, you are 'incentive.' In eight days, the hex will kill you. However, what I hope to accomplish with your Headmaster's help will occur in seven days. At its completion, I will gladly remove the hex. Of course, it's based on my success."

"You . . . you lying bastard!" Hermione screamed at him.

The wizard's face contorted with displeasure and his hold on his wand tightened.

"It is only because you are so necessary to my plans, Miss Granger, that you aren't screaming in agony right now. What is going on here is much more important than keeping my word to you. Hopefully, your Albus Dumbledore is as clever in your world as his is in mine, or you will come to a very sticky end. The quaffle is in his pitch now. Return to him and tell him what's at stake."

Hermione glared up at the wizard. If she thought she stood a chance of doing him some harm, she'd hex him. But, she knew she was no match for him.

"You're an evil man," she hissed at him.

"Why, thank you, Miss Granger," Tom purred back at her.

He chuckled as she stormed back into the room. At least she had enough heart to get angry.

Bloody Gryffindor.

* * *

Slytherin Hermione stood stiffly in front of the mirror, waiting for Hermione when she saw the door behind her crack open a bit in the reflection. She turned around, drawing her wand.

"Who the hell is it?" she snarled.

The door opened, and there stood Professor Snape, his wand trained on her as well.

Hermione's eyes went wide and all color drained from her face for a moment.

Snape seemed quite satisfied with her reaction to him. Well, it hadn't been a full day yet.

"I just wanted to say . . . hello," he purred at her. "Hello."

"Let's make it, goodbye. Hopefully, I'll never have to see you again," she responded with a frown.

"Oh, you'll see me, or your world's version of me," the wizard replied. "Hopefully, you'll treat him with a bit more respect. He's much nicer than I am after all."

"I don't plan to treat him any differently," she spat. "You think a lot of yourself if you think a night with you changed me one iota. Pompous git."

Snape just looked at her, seeming to see inside the witch. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"That's what your mouth says," he responded silkily, grabbing the doorknob. "Goodbye, Miss Granger."

He pulled the door closed.

Hermione stared at it, a knot in her belly. She did mean what she said. She wasn't going to treat the other Snape any differently, although she was nearly certain that he was a more reasonable wizard than his snarky counterpart. She was glad he wasn't in her world. He'd be the worst teacher at Hogwarts.

She turned to see Hermione standing in the mirror. She looked rather ashen as she placed her hand against the glass. Slytherin Hermione cocked her head at her. Tom must have done something. She could tell. She placed her hand against the glass, and once again the witches exchanged places. Slytherin Hermione watched as her counterpart walked to the door as if under a spell, then exited.

Shrugging her shoulders, the Slytherin also left the room.

The corridor was empty. Tom wasn't there. He'd gotten what he wanted, and didn't even give her a pass back to supper.

Hermione sighed and Disillusioned herself, knowing she was missed. She'd try to ease her way into the Great Hall, but didn't hold up much hope. She doubted the Headmaster was there. He was probably in his office with whatever had been delivered to him.

The fuck.

* * *

A dazed Hermione walked out into the corridor. Snape knew something was wrong right away by the look in her eyes.

"Did all go as planned, Miss Granger? Did Tom Riddle receive Albus' reply," he asked the witch.

Hermione looked up at him.

"He received the reply, but everything didn't go as planned. He didn't remove the hex, Professor. He extended it for eight days. He said whatever was going on would happen in seven days, and if everything was successful, he'd remove the hex permanently. He said it was up to the Headmaster now."

Snape stared down at her. It wasn't up to the Headmaster to make this a success, it was up to him.

"Miss Granger, listen to me," the Potions master said to her, "it is of the utmost importance that you come with me to my office and tell me everything you can about that world. About the people there, the society and your experiences. You cannot hold anything back, because what you tell me will have a direct bearing on just how successful this situation is. Your life depends on it, do you understand?"

Hermione blinked at him, feeling a bit nauseous.

"Are you involved in this too, Professor?" she asked him tremulously.

Snape nodded.

"Yes, I am involved in this, Miss Granger. Up to my armpits. Let us go. I will apprise Albus of the situation later. He can be of no help now," the wizard said, walking away swiftly.

Hermione stared after him.

"Are you coming, Miss Granger?" he called back, irritation in his voice.

"Yes. Yes, sir," she replied, hurrying after him.

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading.


	26. Hermione Learns Something

**Chapter 27 Hermione Learns Something**

After receiving her caning from Filch, who only gave her five strokes, reserving the rest until after he spoke to the Headmaster to see if her story of being with him was true, a very angry Hermione stalked to Professor Snape's office. She had her healer's bag with her and most of the effects of the caning were dulled to a low throb. But it was enough pain to give her added attitude.

She pounded on the wizard's office door. After a minute or two, Snape opened the door.

"Miss Granger," he said, his eyes shifting over her sharply to see if she had her wand out. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"You know why I'm here. I want to talk to you about my marks. I want to see them," she said angrily.

Snape widened the door.

"Come in and have a seat, Miss Granger," he said.

He watched the witch stalk by him, then pulled his wand.

"Accio wand," he said softly. Hermione's wand flew out of her pocket and into his outstretched hand. The witch spun.

"Hey, give that back!" she exclaimed.

Snape put it in his robes pocket.

"When you leave it will be returned to you. I don't feel like being hexed, Miss Granger. Now, take a seat," he said firmly, his eyes narrowed.

Hermione scowled at him, reminded of how the Snape in the other world took her wand when she last visited him. She flushed a bit and sat down heavily in the chair in front of Snape's desk, watching as the wizard walked over to a file cabinet, opened it, shifted through the folders and drew out a parchment. He walked back to the desk, looking at it as he sat down.

"Ah, yes. You now have an "Exceeds Expectations," he told her, smirking a bit as he slid the parchment over to her. "Quite a good mark. The best in Slytherin house in years."

Hermione frowned as she saw the "Extra Credit" points in the right corner of the parchment.

"I suppose you fulfilled a fantasy with my counterpart," she said to him witheringly as she slid the file back

Snape took it, then studied her for a moment.

"Actually, I didn't, Miss Granger. Although she looked like you, I was very aware she was not you, and so treated her accordingly. Had it been you . . . the encounter would have been much different," he replied honestly.

Thinking of how brutal the Slytherin Snape had been, she said, "Yes. I imagine pain and humiliation would have played a big part."

The wizard looked at her in surprise.

"Pain? Humiliation? That's not how I operate Miss Granger. All my encounters with students are pleasure-oriented. I don't mistreat them, although there is a Lite BDSM/roleplay selection on my extra credit list, but I control the extent of the interaction, enlisting safe words and the like."

Hermione stared at him.

"Extra credit 'list?' What is that?" she asked him.

"It's a checklist of acts that can be performed for extra credit," he replied, taking the laminated parchment out of the top drawer and sliding it over to the witch.

Hermione blinked at him. He had a list? None of the other teachers had a list. They usually just told the students what they could do for the amount of credit they wanted. It wasn't . . . itemized. Basically the teachers had the power.

Hermione took the list and looked at it, the acts listed and the points clearly laid out.

She looked up at him.

"You let the students decide what will be done?" she asked him, surprised.

Snape nodded.

"Yes. I believe that is a fair way to allow them some say in the matter. It isn't required of course, but I try to make the experience as enjoyable as possible. This way, they know what to expect and feel they have some control over the situation."

Hermione flipped the parchment over and continued reading.

Snape studied her quietly, wondering what was going through the witch's mind. She didn't know about the list, because she had never inquired about extra credit. Snape was often ridiculed by the other staff members because of the way he went about giving his students extra points, but, he didn't care about it. He had spoken to Tom Riddle about making a list mandatory, but the Headmaster wouldn't hear of his goody-goody tactics.

"Our methods have worked fine for years, Severus. Teachers must maintain their authority over students, not coddle them and nitpick about every little act. It's too constraining. You may run things the way you like considering your own students and those in your class, but you will not take over this school with your idealistic approaches. And that's final," Tom had told him pointedly.

Hermione looked up at him.

"So, my counterpart chose what would happen between you," she asked him, her eyes narrowed.

"For the most part, although there was a little spontaneity involved. We started in the shower," he told the witch. "It wasn't on the list, but she was given a choice rather or not to proceed. She agreed and received the proper amount of points in addition to what was already established."

Hermione's brown eyes flicked over the pale wizard looking back at her calmly, then looked down at the list again. She focused on a particular listing, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered it. She looked up at Snape again.

"So, you give the option of roleplay too?" she asked him.

Snape could tell the witch was interested. His heart sped up a bit.

"It's on the list, isn't it?" he replied, trying to remain cool.

"I see it, but . . . what is it? Imaginary? You have to get in the proper 'frame of mind' or something?' Pretend?" Hermione asked him, curious now.

"Oh, it's a little more than that, Miss Granger. Would you like to see?" he asked the witch, rising from his desk, knowing she would.

Hermione didn't respond but watched as the wizard walked across the room to a door and opened it. He gestured at her.

"Enter this room, Miss Granger," he said softly.

Hermione slowly rose from her chair, walked up to the door and looked in. The room was completely empty.

"What is this?" she asked. "There's nothing in here. Not even a bed."

"Go in," the wizard told her again.

Hermione slowly entered the empty room, Snape entering behind her.

Suddenly, the walls became dark stone and the room was sparsely furnished. There was a four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a mirrored dresser and a wooden chair. A few torches spluttered in scones on the wall. The room was horribly familiar.

"What . . ." Hermione started, then turned. Her sentence broke off mid-utterance as she looked at Professor Snape. He was dressed in severe black robes with an amazing amount of fasteners down the front, his hair lank as he looked down at himself.

"I feel quite the draft," the wizard said, pulling the neck of his robes out and looking down inside them. He only wore a pair of briefs underneath. He then looked at Hermione, who looked back at him as if she'd seen a ghost.

"This is a modified Room of Requirement. It doubles as my bedroom when I don't have students," he explained to the witch. "I had to pay for its installment myself, since the Headmaster refused to do so, but it comes in very handy. I let you enter first because the room takes on the scenario desired by the person who first enters. This is . . . well . . . interesting. Rather Spartan . . ."

The wizard looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was pale but a bit unhealthy looking, and he appeared visually thinner than he normally was. It was illusion of course.

"Hmm. A bit less than attractive," he mused, his dark eyes turning on Hermione, who continued staring at him. "Is this . . . what my counterpart looks like, Miss Granger?"

She nodded slowly. Snape looked back at himself in the mirror speculatively, cocking his head a bit. So this was the kind of wizard Hermione Granger gravitated to. But it had to be something more. Snape thought he knew what it was.

"I look a bit too pleasant for this illusion. I believe an adjustment is in order," he said.

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and turned his mouth a bit downward.

"Much better," he said softly, looking at Hermione, who seemed to have gone a shade paler as she looked back at him.

"I . . . I have to go!" she said suddenly, Snape quickly tossing her wand to her and watching as she fled his room and office.

Snape looked after her, then walked closer to the mirror, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he looked at his rather gaunt features. He sneered, then arched an eyebrow, looking like the perfect villain.

"I think I may have just discovered Miss Granger's weakness," he mused as he folded his arms and looked severe. Then, he smiled. Unlike Snape's yellowed and crooked teeth, his were even and white. It made for an interesting contrast.

"Me."

* * *

Hermione headed directly for Slytherin house, feeling all out of sorts at what she'd found out about the Gryffindor Head of House, not to mention his mini-ROR. She had no idea his extra credit was so . . . structured.

What was more, he could look just like the Snape of the alternate world.

This was insane.

As she walked down the marble staircase, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye near the dungeon entrance and drew her wand. When she touched down on the ground floor she spun and pointed it at the person standing there.

It was Luna Lovegood. She lowered her wand as Luna slowly approached her.

"Welcome home," she said softly.

Hermione eyed the blonde witch, then gave her a small smile.

"I heard there was a mix-up. You snogged my counterpart?" she asked Luna, who's blue eyes rested on her hungrily.

"Yes, I did. And I was mad as hell about it, too. She could have told me who she was," the Hufflepuff said. "I don't like being fooled. So I hexed her."

Hermione shook her head.

"I didn't know you had a temper, Luna. You're always so . . . accommodating," Hermione said to her as the witch slowly moved closer.

"Just for you," Luna said softly, kissing Hermione on the mouth.

The witch let her kiss her for a moment, then broke the kiss, looking around the Entrance Hall, then giving her a purposeful frown.

"You didn't ask to kiss me," she said in a low voice, "you're going to have to pay for that."

"I know," Luna said, "hopefully soon."

Hermione couldn't help giving the witch a smile. Luna was wild about her, and there were no strings at all. She was mostly guileless, a rarity at this school. Still, the Slytherin was never publicly demonstrative with the witch. She just let Luna kiss her because it had been a long time. If there was anyone Hermione was soft with, it was Luna Lovegood, at least some of the time.

"I'll let you know. I have to go," Hermione told her.

"You're always going," Luna said gloomily.

"It's the way it is, Luna. I'll get in contact with you soon, all right?"

"All right, Hermione," Luna replied, her blue eyes sad.

Hermione walked down the narrow stairwell, leaving Luna behind, her mind once again turning to her Transfiguration teacher. She hated to think it, but . . . his extra credit setup sounded very good. Much better than those of the other teachers.

Particularly if he could turn into Snape. The other Snape.

She wondered if he had the physical attributes Slytherin Snape did . . . meaning his huge cock. Most likely he did. He was heavier than his counterpart, but he didn't live as trying a life. But in the ROR, he looked slimmer. He probably had the scars as well.

As Hermione said the password to enter the Slytherin common room, she realized she had quite a bit to think about. The way her intimate encounter went with the original bad boy Snape didn't settle well with her at all, although she did her best to accept it. She didn't like how he made her feel about herself. As if she were nothing special.

She'd always felt special, as if she ruled the world . . . until him. He had taken away her illusion of control, let her know she was no better than anyone else. In fact, he made it clear he thought she was worse. Yes, she was manipulative, but everyone was in her world to some extent . . . if they wanted to get ahead. As she told Tom, she had acted as if it were all business as usual. But, that hadn't flown and for the first time in her life, her foundation had been badly shaken. There was another point of view, one she could clearly see.

Hermione hated the feelings that haunted her when she thought of the Potions master. They'd continue to haunt her if she didn't do something about them, alter the memories to suit her. Maybe make it so the encounter was better, more in line with the adoration she was used to being shown by those she involved herself with. So what if it were fantasy?

It could replace what she had now.

Yes, something had changed for the Hermione Granger of this world, and that was tackling that bastard in the alternate universe had somehow made this Snape much more palatable.

He was still a Gryffindor, but . . . in this instance, that could be an asset.

* * *

A/N: Had a loooong day today, and it was hard to focus. Lots of distractions, and then an "off" feeling. I hope this chapter is all right. Thanks for reading.


	27. Snape Learns Something

**_NOTE: I had to do a major rewrite of Albus' and Grindelwald's relationship. I've not been feeling well and dropped the ball for a quick second. So sorry about that. :(_**

**Chapter 28 Snape Learns Something**

Hermione was surprised that Professor Snape brought her into his private quarters, rather than his office. His study was quite Spartan in furnishings, a sofa, two armchairs set before the fireplace with a table between them, a large writing desk in one corner, and a liquor cabinet in the other. But what the room lacked in luxury, the library more than made up for. The walls were covered in recessed bookshelves and filled to the brim with tomes. She loved how it smelled here, of old leather, parchment and some spicy scent, possibly sandalwood. As she took a seat in one of the armchairs, her brown eyes rested on the books longingly. He must have so many rare publications.

Snape noticed her interest in his books immediately. The other Hermione had shown no interest in his library at all. This witch looked as if she would gladly devour each and every one of his titles. He moved the small table from between the chairs.

"Miss Granger, turn your chair," he directed, turning his own to face her. Hermione obliged him. Then the wizard pulled out his wand.

"Hold very still, Miss Granger," he said softly, murmuring an incantation and passing the wand around her seated body as if checking her for weapons. He wasn't however. He was checking the hex Tom put on her. The tip of the wand glowed blue, just as a mediwitch's wand would do during the examination of a healthy body. But then, the blue light became streaked with black flashes. Snape lowered it, shaking his head slightly.

"You have indeed been hexed, Miss Granger. I don't know what the spell is, but I do believe if it is tampered with, it will go into full effect and you will expire," the wizard told her, taking the seat across from her.

Hermione's eyes glistened.

"Be brave," Snape said to her. "I'm going to do my best to keep you attached to your mortal coil."

Hermione blinked at him.

"But Professor, there's no guarantee that Tom Riddle will remove this spell even if he gets what he wants," she responded.

Snape frowned slightly.

"We'll cross that moat when we get to it, Miss Granger, but you have my word I will do my best to make sure he does remove it. That is all the comfort I can offer you at this time," he told her. "What I need from you now are details about the alternate universe's society. How they operate. What laws they follow, how they interact. The overall climate. Can you tell me anything?"

Hermione nodded. She had read the very twisted history of that world in an attempt to understand it better. Especially the rise of Albus Dumbledore, which had been rather shocking. It seemed he and a wizard named Grindelwald had aspirations to streamline the world magically. But Grindelwald believed that Muggle-borns should rule, being they were born with magic from above and were the purest wizards and witches, while Dumbledore hated Muggles because they had beaten his sister until she could no longer function properly. He considered any witch or wizard born to them freaks of nature. Tthey began to fight between themselves, each wanting to be the leader and establish their own rule. There was a battle and Dumbledore's youngest sister had been killed. Grindelwald fled, but Albus found him years later and killed him, then set about establishing a new Order, one where Purebloods were held in high esteem.

He also became smitten by the idea of eternal life, and had undergone physical and magical experimentation to prolong his own existence, taking on the name of Lord Bedaub Mules after his transformation. He had a following of Purebloods who followed his every instruction. They operated like terrorists, often kidnapping Muggles and Muggle-Borns, putting them to death in horrible ways, and taking down those in positions of power. Tom Riddle had his own group, the Death Eaters, who battled the Order. It was a hard fight however, and he had been unable to destroy the despot or make any leeway.

Snape listened to Hermione very carefully, asking question after question for clarification, particularly about how Tom Riddle ran Hogwarts. As he suspected, with an iron rod. He was well-respected by wizarding society and considered something of a hero. Hermione then told him of the society itself, how marriage was binding for life, but open for other partners, the main purpose of marrying to produce offspring. She told him how Purebloods marrying other Purebloods was frowned upon and how they were considered magically incestuous, and held in lowest esteem.

Snape took this all in, questioning her for almost three hours before they took a break, the wizard ordering food and drink. It was after curfew now, but he still needed to know more . . .

Hermione ate her food, feeling drained under the Potions master's interrogation, but judging by how focused the wizard was, she could tell her responses were of the utmost importance. But why did he need to know so many details?

After they had eaten and the house elves retrieved their dishes, Snape studied Hermione for a moment.

"Miss Granger, do you know Occlumency?" he asked her.

"A bit," Hermione replied, "but I'm not as good with it as I'd like to be."

Snape nodded.

"Something you definitely need to work on in these dangerous times," he responded, "however, I must ask you not to use it when I perform Legilimency on you."

Hermione paled. He was going to invade her mind? If he did, and she didn't block certain memories, then he'd see . . . he'd see . . .

"Professor, I really don't want you sifting through my memories. They're . . . they're private . . . personal," she told the wizard.

Snape's face contorted.

"Miss Granger, there are things your personal experiences can add to what you've told me, such as perspective. I can also receive insights that won't be available any other way. No matter what occurred while you were in the alternate universe, Miss Granger, I doubt if hiding it is more important than your life. If you are concerned about keeping your secrets, Miss Granger, more than likely those secrets will take you right to the grave. But then again, dead witches tell no secrets, do they?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But . . . but you don't understand," she said to him, her voice breaking.

"I do understand. I've kept secrets, terrible secrets all my life, Miss Granger. I doubt anything I find in your mind will hold a torch to my own dark memories. There's nothing you've been through that will surprise me. This is a matter of utmost importance, Miss Granger, not only in relation to your own life, but possibly to the wizarding world at large. Surely, you wouldn't be that selfish as to put yourself before the welfare of thousands of others?" he asked her.

Hermione stared at him.

"No, I'm not," she said, sounding defeated. "But, could you make it so that I don't see what you see in my mind? I . . . I don't want to relive it with you. It's too . . . It's too . . ."

"Of course, Miss Granger. If you like, I can place you in a state of unconsciousness. That way you won't have any recollection of what I've seen. I could even Obliviate this entire session from your mind afterwards, if you'd like."

Hermione considered this. That would be the easy way out, but the Professor would still know what had happened between her and his counterpart. She had no idea that he had also been involved with her counterpart, and already suspected she'd done likewise.

"No, you don't have to Obliviate me," she said softly, "but I'd like to be unconscious during the act."

"Very well," the wizard said, drawing his wand. "Just relax."

Snape murmured a spell that put Hermione into a deep sleep. He would have to remove it in order for her to awaken.

"Now, Miss Granger, let's see what you were so desperate to hide," he breathed.

"Legilimens!"

* * *

Snape sent Hermione back to Gryffindor tower and reported to Albus immediately.

"Did Miss Granger give you a thorough idea of how the society works?" the Headmaster asked him, his blue eyes rather worried.

Snape nodded.

"I should be able to paint a very compelling picture of it when I go before the Dark Lord tomorrow night. Hopefully, it will enthrall him so much, I'll be able to escape being tortured. I haven't had any information he's deemed worthy in quite a while. A displeased Voldemort is a Crucioing Voldemort," the Potions master replied. "After I've hooked him, I will dangle the bait . . . knowing Voldemort, his curiosity will do the rest."

"I hope you're right, Severus. If you can pull this off, the final battle may never occur," the Headmaster told him. "The war will be over."

Snape wasn't sure if Albus were correct or not. This entire situation could virtually explode in all their faces, making things worse instead of better. Yet, it was worth a try. Everything seemed to be at a stalemate at this time, with Voldemort making more evil plans and the Order thwarting him at every turn, but making no headway over all. At this rate, the war could go on forever. Something had to give.

"By the way, Headmaster, Miss Granger is still in danger. Tom Riddle extended the hex eight days. He will remove it only if our manipulation of the situation is successful," Snape said silkily.

Albus turned crimson.

"What? He didn't remove the spell?" he hissed.

Snape shook his head.

"Obviously, this version of Tom Riddle is as dishonest and untrustworthy as our own," Albus said, scowling. "But, still, he appears to be the lesser of two evils. We simply must make this work, Severus. We must."

"I'll do my best, sir," Snape replied.

* * *

Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor tower, where Harry and Ron were waiting for her, full of curiosity as to where she'd been and what she'd been up to. To their chagrin, Hermione went straight to her room, saying she was tired.

Harry and Ron looked after her.

"Something is up with Hermione, Harry. She's hiding something from us," Ron said, his blue eyes narrowed.

"She just got back, Ron. Maybe she's traumatized and needs some time to get her feet back on solid ground. You heard how it was there. It couldn't have been easy for her to go through all that. Imagine, being in Slytherin house," Harry replied.

"Yes, with evil us," Ron said, shaking his head slightly. "I wonder what kind of git I was in that world. A Slytherin. Ack! I'm traumatized just thinking about it."

"Let's just go to bed, Ron and give her some time. She'll come around, I'm sure. Maybe she was with Dumbledore, telling him more about her adventure," Harry suggested as they headed for their room.

"Tom Riddle as the Head of Hogwarts. That's just nutters," Ron murmured.

* * *

Hermione quickly undressed for bed and climbed in, turning to lay on her back and looking up toward the ceiling. When Snape awakened her, he didn't act any differently. He just told her he'd seen all he needed to see and that she should return to Gryffindor tower.

Hermione accepted a pass from him, and faltered before leaving. She wanted to ask him what he saw, but didn't. She didn't have the nerve. Still, she couldn't detect any difference in his demeanor.

But she wouldn't. Snape was a spy after all. His ability not to react to things he discovered helped to keep him breathing. It didn't mean he wasn't affected by the knowledge he gained, just that he could control himself in spite of it.

And the wizard was very much in control as he sat in his study, musing over what Hermione had gone through during her time in the alternate world. It had only been a few days, and some might consider what she did shocking. But Snape could see it was something she fell into that she was unprepared for and swept away by.

Her interaction with his counterpart was not a calculated, planned activity, like Snape's experience with the Slytherin Hermione. Perhaps if Miss Granger hadn't been such a bleeding heart Gryffindor, she wouldn't have taken the proverbial plunge, but Snape suspected that the previous contact with the wizard had a lot to do with it. The snogging started it all. She was a young woman with burgeoning needs after all. It could have happened with any wizard who pulled a response from her.

He had seen everything in entirety, from the kisses, to the shower to the deflowering. It was disconcerting to see himself making love to the witch, because that is what happened. It was no animal act, and his counterpart was kind, gentle and thorough. He treated her properly for her first time, and it was easy to see it had been good for the witch. He would have done no less himself, given the opportunity.

Still, Legilimency could also let the viewer experience emotions, and Hermione was truly smitten with that world's Snape, and believed that the sexual act was more than what it was. Snape felt her hurt at the end of it, although the wizard hadn't been unkind. He just wasn't invested in any meaningful degree. Hermione had been one student out of many students, and he had a life of his own beyond the walls of Hogwarts.

Snape nursed his Firewhiskey, unable to push the intimate details out of his mind. He had never considered Hermione Granger anything more than an irritating student and friend to Harry Potter. One who had earned him quite a few stripes from the Dark Lord, although she knew nothing of it. If she did, no doubt she'd martyr herself to him as well.

"How can I make it up to you, Professor Snape?" she'd wail.

A smirk played about the wizard's pale face for a moment as he considered how he might answer that. No, that would be absolutely unconscionable. But he idly wondered if she felt any residual attraction to him. He had to admit to himself that he felt a physical attraction to her because of the talented, manipulative young woman he'd dallied with.

If one could call what he did to her "dallying."

Snape finished his drink, Scourgified the glass and put it away. This situation with Miss Granger might be something worth exploring after this current state of affairs was concluded, provided she survived.

The dark wizard lowered the fire in the hearth and retired to his bedroom.

Hm. Hermione Granger. How many heart attacks would that cause if they became an item? She would be graduating soon after all.

He'd have to try to keep her breathing and find out.

* * *

A/N: Still feeling a little "off." Sigh. Thanks for reading.


	28. Dangling the Bait

**Chapter 29 Dangling the Bait**

The next day at the end of Advanced Charms class, Hermione received a folded parchment with her class assignment from professor Flitwick. She opened it and read the contents.

_Miss Granger, because of your absence, your marks have dropped significantly. It is suggested you make an appointment for extra credit. You will need to earn at least seventy-five points. Please see me at your earliest opportunity._

_Professor F. Flitwick_

Hermione sighed.

She wasn't in the mood to do any extra credit work. It didn't help that she received similar messages for almost every class, the exception being Advanced Transfiguration. She'd never been behind before, so this was the first time she had to deal with several teachers wanting her to "attend" to her marks at one time.

It was also the first time she felt pressured to do it. The witch thought about the system at the alternate Hogwarts, and for the first time, felt some appreciation for it. In that world, she could simply do a few extra written assignments and catch up her marks without engaging anyone sexually.

In fact, Miss Granger was experiencing quite a few "firsts" since returning from the mirror world. And they weren't pleasant "firsts" either. Having a slew of teachers expecting sexual favors was a new and rather unwelcome experience for her and she didn't like how it made her feel. As if Snape were right in his assessment of her getting by spreading her legs.

The Slytherin had a chance to see Hermione's marks while at the alternate Hogwarts, and they were all very high, the product of dedicated study and application. Her mind was what made those grades, not her sexual abilities behind closed doors.

This Hermione was quite bright as well, but there was no pressure or real appreciation for intelligence. The dullest student at this Hogwarts could have excellent marks if willing to do what was physically necessary to gain them.

She sighed as she sat in her bedroom and looked over all the extra credit requests and began to half-heartedly sort them out. She had to get her marks up no matter how she felt about it.

Damn. Her life had been fine before she'd experienced the other universe. She wished she had never passed through that bloody mirror.

* * *

Severus Snape walked across the grounds of Hogwarts. It was late evening, a Friday night. He had no classes to teach because it was the weekend. Still, he had an assignment. He let himself out of the gates and walked up the road a way. He stepped off of the road and into the trees, looking around cautiously before pulling on a skeletal half-mask, then rolling up the left sleeve of his robe and placing the tip of his wand against his Dark Mark.

He concentrated . . . and then disappeared, his request for an audience heard by his master.

* * *

Voldemort sat on his throne of bones on a dais set in the middle of his circular stone throne room. It was barren except for the torches on the wall and small bonfires burning here and there. The wizard's nature was reptilian and he couldn't produce his own body heat, so the throne room was kept very warm.

There were several doors cut into the walls that led to other areas of his throne room. A number of Death Eaters lounged about, standing in small groups, some leaning against the walls. The despot provided nothing for their comfort unless there was a revel. Then seats, sofas and mattresses abounded.

Severus Snape appeared before his throne, dropping immediately to one knee and bowing his head. The scaly wizard studied him through narrowed red eyes for a moment, displeasure stretching his lipless mouth as he looked down on his inept spy. Severus hadn't provided any pertinent information in months.

He'd better have something worthwhile today or he could count on the lash for certain. Maybe that would give him more incentive.

"Arise, Severus and remove your mask," Voldemort lisped at him.

Snape stood up, lowered his hood and removed his hood.

"Greetings, my Lord," he said with a bow.

"You had better come to me with more than greetings, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, "you've been less than useful these past few months. I've made no headway with either Dumbledore or that damned Potter boy and I blame you. I'm tired of this damned war and want it over one way or another. What news have you?"

"Well, my Lord, I'm sorry to say I have no news concerning either Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore," Snape replied, but quickly added, "but I do have some information that you might find very interesting concerning a recent incident at Hogwarts of some portent."

Voldemort snarled at him, his wand hand twitching.

"What do I care about what happens at that blasted school if it doesn't bring me closer to taking it over?" he asked the wizard, bringing his wand around.

"Ah, but this information is about just that, my Lord. You having control of Hogwarts," Snape said, dangling the bait.

Voldemort looked interested but hissed, "What nonsense are you spouting, Severus? I am in no mood for jokes."

"This is no joke, my Lord. Recently, a student named Hermione Granger passed through the Mirror of Erised into an alternate universe where you were the Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In that world you are a respected hero and lead the fight against the despot Albus Dumbledore, who is also called Lord Bedaub Mules. Of course, this world is slightly different than our own, with you supporting the rights of Muggle-Borns and Albus pushing the Pureblood cause. I've found out quite a bit of information about this world and how it is accessed. I thought you might find it interesting."

Voldemort sat up straight in his throne, his red eyes flashing with curiosity.

"I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes, my Lord. And you rule with an iron wand. The rules are . . . slightly different under your guidance. For example, there is torture . . . caning, imprisonment and sex with teachers for extra credit."

Voldemort took this in with a lascivious smile, showing his small pointed teeth.

"Indeed, and what else?" the wizard asked the Potions master.

"Harry Potter is there as well. He adores you and hates Albus Dumbledore with a passion, my Lord. He is under your protection, and my sources imply that you have an intimate relationship with him at times as well."

Voldemort laughed at this.

"I bugger Potter?" he asked Severus delightedly.

"According to my sources, yes. In fact, everyone you know here, is there, although in differing roles. For example, students in Slytherin in this world are in Gryffindor in the other. Professor McGonagall is the Potions mistress, and a Slytherin. And I . . ."

Here Snape's face contorted with distaste.

"I am the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor house."

Voldemort folded over in his throne in full conniptions at this bit of information, laughing until tears rolled down his face. Snape a Gryffindor!

Presently, the wizard straightened, wiping at his eyes with an elegant hand and flicking his wand, making a comfortable armchair appear. This was a great honor, to be seated in front of him.

"Sit, Severus and tell me more about this world. It amuses me, and I haven't been amused in a long time," he said.

Severus bowed and took a seat, mentally wiping his brow. Voldemort was interested. That was good.

Now . . . all he needed to do was make him obsessed.

He had a week.

* * *

Voldemort listened with delight and awe as Severus described this alternate universe. Imagine, a world where he was Head of Hogwarts, and a renowned and respected member of society, considered on the side of Good. And the society itself was a free society, with few of the conventions of this one. Open marriages, bi-sexuality, lynching of council members and more. It sounded wonderful.

The more he heard, the more he desired to see this world for himself, possibly even experience it. True, Muggle-Borns were given the upper hand . . . but . . . such situations could be changed, particularly if the Albus Dumbledore was pro-Pureblood. He could be . . . an ally. After all, according to Snape, they were very much alike.

He had Snape stay overnight, regaling him with stories about this alternate world, and when the despot fell asleep, his dreams were full of scenarios with himself behind the Headmaster's desk, beloved and respected by all, enjoying the fame and adoration that eluded him here.

The next morning, he summoned Snape and questioned him tirelessly about how the world was accessed.

"Apparently, the counterparts must look into the mirrors at the same time, and be in sync. Contact with the mirror at that time causes a switch in positions. Miss Granger was able to return home in this manner as well. Currently, the Mirror of Noisreva is in Tom Riddle's office. If you had the Mirror of Erised here in your throne room, no doubt you could see him for yourself. Of course, the conditions would have to be perfect. For example, if you had other people here with you, it is doubtful that you would see your counterpart unless he had precisely the same people surrounding him."

"Yes," Voldemort said thoughtfully, "but more than likely, he would be alone in his office most of the time. It would be an easy matter to keep my throne room clear."

Snape feigned surprise at his statement.

"My Lord, you sound as if you're planning to see this world for yourself," the Potions master said.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him.

"I do plan to, Severus, and you are going to help me . . . or else. I need you to get that mirror here. I don't care how you do it, but you are to do it as soon as possible. You've been failing at everything else I've asked of you. Fail at this, and you'll wish you were never born, I promise you thissssssss," the wizard said, his excitement causing him to hiss.

"That will take some doing, my Lord," Snape said in a low voice.

"I don't care. Reduce it or something, but get it to me, Severus. I wish to see this Tom Riddle for myself. Now, go back to Hogwarts and come up with a plan. I'll give you a week. No more. Now, go!"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said with a low bow, backing away from the Dark Lord. Then, he Disapparated.

Voldemort returned to his throne, sitting down and getting a faraway look in his red eyes. He was tired of being on the outside trying to get in. He planned to do much more than look at Tom Riddle's world.

He planned to enter it . . . and if possible, take it over.

He was tired of reigning in hell. It was time to rule in heaven. If he were Headmaster of Hogwarts, he would be in a better position than he was here. Oh, he was sure there would be some consternation at the changes he'd put into effect, but he was Tom Riddle after all and Hogwarts was Slytherin run. He was sure he could replace his counterpart. His looks might be an issue, but he could apply a glamour or maybe even use Polyjuice for a time. There were bound to be hairs in his counterpart's private quarters.

Where there was a will, there was a way. His Death Eaters could fend for themselves as far as he was concerned. They weren't giving him the service he desired anyway.

And if that world was the mirror of this one, he was almost sure that the Potions mistress Minerva McGonagall had a secret she was hiding just as Severus did. She might be serving Lord Bedaub Mules. He'd find out, even if he had to torture the truth from her. Then he could contact the wizard, perhaps . . . work together with him in secret to promote the Pureblood cause.

The possibilities were astounding.

Voldemort scowled.

Severus had better manage to pull this off and get that mirror to him. If he didn't, this time the Potions master might not walk away.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	29. An Error in Judgment

**Chapter 30 An Error in Judgment**

"The Dark Lord has given me one week to deliver the Mirror of Erised to his stronghold," Snape reported to Albus, who nodded soberly.

"Voldemort's greed and desire for power will be his undoing. No doubt the idea of being the Headmaster of Hogwarts tickled his scales," the Headmaster said. "But, that makes your job easier."

"Perhaps, not as easy as it seems, Headmaster," Snape replied. "I've been considering Miss Granger's situation. I'm not sure the alternate Tom Riddle can be trusted to remove the deadly hex he placed upon her if left to his own devices, successful or not."

Albus sighed. He had also thought about this.

"What are you suggesting, Severus?" the Headmaster asked him.

Snape told him, and Albus looked quite worried.

"But how will you justify that?" he asked the dark wizard. "Voldemort might take advantage of the situation."

"I believe he will be too excited to give it much consideration, Headmaster. I think it is the best option," Snape replied.

"It is quite dangerous, Severus. If you wish to do this, then you will have to explain the situation to Miss Granger and see if she will agree. If not, then we can only hope this Tom Riddle does have some honor," Albus said, looking doubtful.

"Miss Granger is a logical witch. She will agree. It could mean her life after all," Snape replied. "I will talk with her tomorrow."

Albus took off his half-moon spectacles and wiped them thoughtfully with the sleeve of his robes before returning them to the bridge of his crooked nose and looking at Severus solemnly.

"We are taking a great risk doing this, Severus. Hopefully, it will work out. If it does, the wizarding world will undergo a major change. Of course, there will be challenges, but at least the murder of Muggles and Muggle-Borns will cease," Albus said, looking older, if that were possible. "I'm so tired of bloodshed."

"As am I, Headmaster," Snape agreed, thinking he was also tired of serving two masters. If this worked, he'd be free of his spying and his service to the Order. He planned to resign immediately. It had been so long since he was in control of his own life, he couldn't remember what it was like to do as he pleased when he pleased.

He excused himself and returned to the dungeons. He felt a strange sensation as he walked the quiet halls of Hogwarts. Something entirely alien to him.

As he let himself into his office, Snape realized what the unfamiliar feeling was.

Hope.

* * *

Hermione was surprised when professor Snape held her after class and informed her that she was to come to his office that evening to talk about a very serious matter. She was dying of curiosity as to what he wanted to talk about. Maybe the mysterious going-ons.

But although she was curious, she was also embarrassed and self-conscious about being in the wizard's presence. He knew what had happened between her and his counterpart. How did that affect him? What did he think of her?

She didn't know, because he didn't say anything. And . . . that felt infinitely worse than if he had. Every time Snape turned those narrowed black eyes on her, she knew that behind them was the knowledge of her actions in vivid detail. Still, somehow she knew he wouldn't reveal it. Snape was a keeper of secrets. Surely, he would keep this one.

Well, hopefully he would.

Hermione exited the Potions class to find Draco Malfoy standing a little ways up the corridor, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He was sneering at her, as usual. She made to walk past him when he suddenly straightened and blocked her way. They were the only two in the corridor.

"Hold it, Granger. I have a bit of news for you," Draco drawled at her, his gray eyes hard.

"Tell it to the Prophet, Draco. I'm not interested in anything you have to say," she told him, trying to walk around the wizard. Draco shifted so she couldn't.

"You'll want to hear this. It's about your counterpart . . . what she did the night you returned," he told her, a nasty smirk playing around his lips. "It's very interesting."

Hermione stared up at him. Her counterpart had been in Slytherin house, and she had no idea what went on. She wasn't friends with any Slytherins. Maybe Draco did know something important.

"What is it, Draco?" Hermione asked him.

"Well, first, she tried to suck out my tonsils," the pureblood said, pursing his lips a little as Hermione turned bright red.

"And then, she fucked professor Snape," he finished.

Hermione felt the corridor swirl around her, and felt Draco catch her in his arms as she swooned.

"Just the reaction I thought you'd have," he purred as Hermione got her bearings and wrestled away from him, straightening her robes.

"You're lying," she hissed at him.

"I'm not. I walked her to his office. It was after curfew. He didn't know I was with her, and when she knocked, he grabbed her and pulled her into his office, telling her to 'get in here.' He called her something too, something unflattering, but I couldn't hear what it was because he closed the door so quickly," Draco said, his eyes narrowed as he studied Hermione. "Professor Snape never sees anyone after curfew. You know that. There's only one reason he would accept her into his office after hours, Granger, and that would be to fuck her. Plus, I was sitting in the common room when she returned a few hours later, and she looked thoroughly reamed. Her hair was frizzy, she had on no makeup and she was walking funny. I know he shagged her."

He let this sink in, Hermione looking at him silently, not responding. He continued.

"And I tell you, Granger, she would have done me too if she had stayed long enough. But I didn't want her after Snape had her. It's disgusting. She was a pig."

Hermione stared at Draco, processing this information, feeling as if the whole world had gone mad once again. Her counterpart was with her professor Snape at the same time she was with his counterpart? Damn. It could be possible. They could have been in synch. But she pulled herself together. Draco clearly wanted to see her lose it. Cry, perhaps. Well, she wouldn't. She lifted her chin.

"Well, what does that have to do with me, Draco? That's between my counterpart and Professor Snape. It has nothing to do with me at all," she said.

Draco's face twisted a bit.

"What do you mean it has nothing to do with you? Doesn't it bother you that the professor did things with a carbon copy of you? I bet he knows every inch of your body, and probably stuck his cock in every hole. I've heard about him, you know. He's a deviant. He might as well have been fucking you. I bet he thinks about it every time he looks at you," Draco said. "Now that you know what he did, it has to affect you in some way. You're disgusted aren't you? It's like you're a slut by association."

That was it.

"Shut up, Draco! It wasn't me, so I have nothing to feel ashamed or guilty about," she snapped at him.

"But how about revolted? You do feel revolted, don't you, Granger? The gods know I would," Draco pressed, wanting to see a reaction of shame and revulsion from the witch.

Hermione just stared back at him, and Draco's eyebrow arched.

"You're not revolted," he said in a low, disbelieving voice. "Don't tell me . . . tell me the idea of shagging Snape turns you on?"

"No!" Hermione said vehemently, trying not to think about the alternate Snape.

Draco studied her, noting her deep blush.

"I don't believe you, Granger. Tell me, did you fuck the other Snape, too?"

Hermione suddenly pushed past Draco.

"Just leave me alone, Draco," she hissed back at him as she quickly walked away. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I know you're hiding something, Granger. I bet you spread your legs for that Snape in the other world, too. I take it back. The other Hermione wasn't the only pig. You both are!" he called after her.

Hermione didn't reply but broke into a run, tears filling her eyes.

Draco heard a satisfying sob echo back and smiled nastily. No, he'd never have Granger, but he could torment her to offset his own feelings.

The wizard turned to head for Slytherin house, and his smile faded as he looked into the eyes of one Severus Snape. The Potions master had heard yelling in the hall and eased out of his office, standing in the shadows and listening to Draco bait Hermione.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said softly, his black eyes glittering. "I thought you understood that what goes on in the dungeons, stays in the dungeons."

Draco swallowed and looked the wizard in the eyes. They looked rather deadly as Snape considered him. He felt like bashing the stuck-up little wanker in the face, but as a teacher, that would never do. Hermione would have found out about his tryst with her counterpart, because he intended to tell her, but in a very detached way. A way that wouldn't embarrass her and certainly without details. Draco had ruined that, however.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked him.

"No, sir," Draco croaked, paling significantly.

Snape frowned at him, then turned toward his office.

"Come with me, Mr. Malfoy. I intend to show you how I deal with students that break Slytherin tradition as well as banter my personal life about for entertainment," he said coolly. "You've made a grave error in judgment, Mr. Malfoy. I assure you, you won't make that particular mistake again."

Snape walked back down to his office, his robes billowing, and entered, leaving the door open behind him.

Draco looked about, seeming to think about running. But where could he go? Snape would find him eventually. Damn it.

Slowly, Draco walked down the corridor towards his comeuppance.

As the pureblood entered the office and saw Snape's contorted face as he took down one of the jars from the shelf behind his desk, he hoped the wizard wouldn't poison him.

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said to him, pointing to the rickety chair in front of his desk before unscrewing the lid of the jar. It had pieces of what looked like plants floating inside it. At least it didn't contain one of those horrible pickled creatures.

Draco sat, and nearly gagged at the strong, vinegary smell that filled the office.

Snape drew his wand and flicked it at him, binding him in place. He dipped his finger into the liquid. It was as thick as slime as it clung to his finger, stretching before dropping off, leaving a good amount on his fingertip.

Draco's eyes widened with horror as the wizard slowly walked around his desk, holding his finger up as he approached him. Draco couldn't move or make a sound.

Snape stopped a moment to address him.

"As you know, Mr. Malfoy, breaking Slytherin tradition can result in your being expelled from the house at my discretion, and forced to stay in makeshift quarters until the end of term, no questions asked. The shame on you and your family would be terrible and follow you for the rest of your life. The only reason I don't expel you is because of my association with your father. If you tell him about this punishment, I am sure you will be the one to come out on the bad end of it. Your father respects tradition and will be livid that you revealed something you had no business revealing. So, this is the lesser of two evils, Mr. Malfoy. Believe me when I say, I am being magnanimous."

Draco's gray eyes rested on that dripping finger as Snape brought it close to his face.

"Now, this won't hurt a bit, Mr. Malfoy," Snape purred.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the wait. With the new grandbaby and real life, I took a breather. :shakes head: Draco, Draco, Draco . . . bad judgment indeed. Now Hermione knows what her counterpart did, and who. Lol. Well, we'll see what happens. Will she ask Snape about it when they meet later? And what is Snape doing to Draco? My, so many questions. ;)

On another note, I made a simple little website for my granddaughter Tiana, showing how her mother locked her hair. It's a little 10-step tutorial. Tiana, who's five, is thrilled at having a site. I'm hoping a few of you will stop by and leave her a little message in the comment section. She'd love that, and so would her mom. The link is _**tianashair . figgilicious . com**_ Thanks for reading.


	30. Meeting with Snape

**Chapter 31 Meeting with Snape**

Draco awoke the next morning, thirsty as all hell. A cold glass of pumpkin juice rested on his night stand, a straw sticking out of it. A bowl of rather thin porridge also rested there, a spoon beside it. Apparently, the house elves knew what he'd need for breakfast. Draco sat up on the edge of the bed and thirstily sipped the pumpkin juice, then picked up the spoon and attempted to eat his porridge.

After several tries, he sipped down the rest of his pumpkin juice, then used the straw to suck up the porridge. It was a large bowl at least, so he felt full, though he would have preferred a heartier breakfast. The wizard sighed to himself, then went and showered, ready for his day. It wouldn't be a usual day however.

He put on his boxers, socks, shirt, trousers and boots, leaving his Slytherin tie in the chest of drawers. He wouldn't need it today. He eyed the set of bright red robes Snape had provided him with, sighed inwardly again and resolutely put them on. He sat down on his bed, waiting for his housemates to go to breakfast. Hopefully, no one would see him. If they did, they'd ask him questions, questions he couldn't answer even if he wanted to.

After about half an hour, Draco exited his private rooms, moving down the corridor carefully. If he had his wand, he would have Disillusioned himself, but Snape had confiscated it for the day. He wouldn't be able to use magic.

No one was in the common room. Good. He didn't want to be seen in the flaming red robes. They were known as the Robes of Shame, and were rarely brought out. A Slytherin wearing bright red robes signified he had done something grievous against house traditions without revealing exactly what. Rarely was the crime ever revealed, unless the guilty party shared it. Most did not. Draco wasn't about to make a bad situation worse.

He exited the Slytherin common room and quickly ran up the corridor. He stopped in front of Dungeon five and tried the door. It wouldn't open. Draco grimaced as he remembered what Snape told him about the room. Feeling stupid, Draco addressed the door, his voice badly garbled, asking it to open for him.

The door remained stubbornly closed. At Hogwarts, there were doors that wouldn't open unless politely asked to, or were tickled in the proper place. Actually, there were doors that weren't even doors, just solid walls pretending to be doors. And they constantly moved about. Hogwarts castle was quite the anomaly. But the door to Dungeon five was a real one, and had to be persuaded to open.

"Peeese, opern," Draco said, "Peese."

Finally the door clicked and opened and Draco entered the room, only to find Snape waiting for him there. The Potions master had been there the entire time, listening to the Pureblood trying to get in. He had a small, nasty smirk on his pale face as Draco entered, eyeing the bright red robes.

The room was bare stone and empty except for a few mounted torches, a small table with a huge box of chalk on it, a step ladder and a large blackboard that wrapped around the room. Draco looked at his Head of House sullenly.

"You will be spending the day here, Mr. Malfoy and will make up your missed class work on your own time," Snape told him. "As you can tell, you will spend the day writing lines."

Draco looked at the huge expanse of blackboard before him and hung his head for a moment.

"You are to write 'I will respect my house's traditions' two thousand times," Snape said, gesturing toward the box of chalk as Draco's eyebrows lifted.

"You will use this chalk to accomplish that. You can call on the house-elves to provide you with suitable food and drink," the wizard continued dryly, "and you may use the bathroom facilities in Slytherin if you need to, although I doubt you want anyone to see your robes. After you complete the lines, you may seek me out for your wand. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded, unable to articulate an answer.

Snape curled his lip at him.

"Quite the effective little potion, eh, Mr. Malfoy? It works in a manner similar to alum, tightening the mouth into a pucker, the amount of pucker depending on how much is applied to the lips. I used just enough so you cannot easily communicate, but you can take in nourishment . . . through a straw. Hopefully, this will teach you to stop and think before you speak. Now, pick up the chalk and start your first line. At the top of the board, please. I expect each board in this room to be filled. I suggest you watch the length of your sentences as I want neat, legible columns."

Draco picked up a long piece of chalk from the box, grabbed the stepladder and walked to the board directly in front of him, moving to the far left corner. He positioned the stepladder and climbed on it. It shook a little.

Snape watched with narrowed eyes as Draco wrote the first line with no problem. Then a second, then a third. But when he got to the fourth line, the chalk broke. He frowned at it and tried to use the half he had left. He got mid-way through the sentence, when that too, broke. He looked at the chalk then at Snape, who gave him a rather nasty smile that looked as if he were showing his teeth at him.

"That particular chalk requires even pressure at all times, Mr. Malfoy. If your arm gets tired, or the pressure fluctuates, it will break. I've had it for a while, just sitting about. Some fault in processing I suppose, but . . . I hate to have anything go to waste," Snape purred. "It has been paid for by the school, after all. It's good it will have some use."

Draco felt like cursing the wizard, although he'd never do it, even if he could speak. Defeated, he climbed off the stool and retrieved another piece of chalk as Snape headed for the exited.

"Have a productive day, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said as he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Draco climbed back up the stepladder, mentally calling Snape everything but a son of the gods before he started the lines again.

And again, the chalk broke.

* * *

Hermione was very quiet at supper. Draco didn't attend, however and she was rather glad about that. She didn't want to see him. Professor Snape arrived very late, just before Hermione finished eating. She was aggravated because Ron kept pressuring her to tell him what was wrong.

"Hermione, it's easy to see something's bothering you. Why won't you tell us what it is? We're your friends," the redhead pressed. "There's something you're not telling us, Hermione, something I think we should know."

Harry didn't say anything, although he agreed with Ron. Hermione was hiding something important, and he felt kind of shut out.

But what was Hermione to tell her best friends that wouldn't make the both of them explode like a cauldron where the wrong ingredient was added to the wrong base? That she had a hex on her that could possibly take her life if Tom Riddle himself didn't remove it? Or that she had sex with Snape in the other world?

Neither secret was an option.

Maybe if Harry and Ron were girls it would be easier to confide in them, but they weren't. They were opinionated, pig-headed and reactionary young males. They would take the news about the hex badly, raging that they were left out of the loop concerning something so serious before they started worrying and trying to figure out other solutions to stop her demise.

And the Snape situation? Hermione was sure the horror and disgust that they'd feel concerning her willingly shagging a Snape of any world would have no bounds.

Ron would probably expire. It wouldn't matter if he was an "attractive" Snape and a Gryffindor. In Ronald Weasley's world, a Snape was a Snape, and all Snapes were to be avoided as much as humanly possible.

No. She couldn't tell them anything. She simply left the Great Hall as soon as she could, planning on losing herself in study for the next hour or so before meeting with professor Snape.

* * *

Hermione's innards were twisted like the vines of the Devil's Snare plant as the time approached. At ten minutes to seven she left Gryffindor tower, unaware that she was being followed by a rather odd-looking half shimmer.

It was Harry and Ron, covered in the Invisibility Cloak and Disillusioned beneath it. They were too tall for the cloak to cover them completely, so they adapted. Hermione was so distracted that she didn't notice them. They followed her down the shifting stairwell, having some difficulty getting on the moving landings, Ron nearly falling twice, Harry grabbing him by the back of his shirt desperately. He would have gone down with him, wrapped in the cloak the way he was. After a hairy ride, the two wizards made it to the first floor landing, watching Hermione descend the marble stairwell and turn into the dungeon area, taking the short narrow stairs down into its depths.

"She's heading for the dungeons, Harry. That can only mean one thing. She must be going to see Snape. But why?" Ron said in a low voice as they followed.

"I don't know, but she was gone a week. Knowing Hermione she's doing extra credit work or something," Harry responded quietly, having no idea what the connotations of that statement would have meant to Hermione only days before.

"Wouldn't she tell us that, though?" Ron whispered. "I mean, what's the big secret?"

Harry shrugged as they navigated the narrow stairwell, Hermione walking ahead of them. They paused as she stopped in front of the Potions office and knocked.

The door opened and Hermione walked inside. Harry and Ron were about to ease forward when Snape suddenly stuck his head out of the office, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the corridor. Harry and Ron both held their breaths and flattened themselves against the wall, hoping the wizard wouldn't see them.

Snape continued to glare down the hallway for several moments, then retreated into the office, closing the door behind him.

"I think he saw us," Harry breathed to Ron, who gasped for air.

"No, if he saw us, he'd have come for us," Ron replied. "Think we should try to listen at the door?"

A frightening image of Snape waiting poised on the other side of the door crossed Harry's mind. The Potions master was crouched, almost coiled, looking predatory . . . ready to rip the door open and strike at them like a serpent.

"Ah, no," Harry said. "I really believe he knows we're out here, Ron. We could get in a lot of trouble."

"Gods, Harry. You've got bloody Voldemort after you. How much more trouble can you get in?" Ron said. He really wanted to know what was going on.

"That's outside the school, Ron. I'd like to stay out of trouble in school, if you don't mind. Let's head back. Hermione probably is doing extra credit or something. If she were slinking around the castle or slipping out to the grounds, then I'd be worried. Snape's her teacher. As snarky as he is, he wouldn't actually do anything to her. Let's go," Harry said, tugging on the cloak a bit as Ron stubbornly stood there, looking toward the office door. Finally, he gave in.

"All right, but I want to know what's going on, Harry," he breathed as they walked up the corridor.

"So do I, Ron, but we're going to have to wait until Hermione tells us, if she ever does," he replied.

"Well, I don't like it. Maybe I should try to use Legilimency on her when her back's turned. I'd find out for sure then," Ron mused.

Harry didn't think this was a good idea at all. He'd experienced Ron's talents of Legilimency first hand. His technique was a lot like having your head invaded by a horde of heavy-footed trolls. Hermione would know immediately.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Ron," Harry said as they walked up the hall.

Ron scowled.

"Of course it is, Harry. I've gotten better at it," the wizard said. "You can hardly feel me. And Hermione's really distracted. I bet I could slip into her mind with no trouble at all."

No trouble? Ron was insane. There'd be plenty of trouble once Hermione found out what he was up to.

"Do me a favor, Ron," Harry said, pulling off the cloak and removing the Disillusionment charm as they walked up the stairs that led to the Entrance Hall. Ron removed his charm as well.

"What, Harry?" he asked.

"Let me know when you're going to do this. I don't want to be anywhere near you when Hermione blasts you off your feet. It might ricochet," Harry responded, folding up the cloak into a very small bundle and putting it in his pocket.

Filch walked by, looking at them suspiciously before continuing on his arthritic way, Mrs. Norris in tow.

"I swear, Harry. Sometimes it's like you have no faith in me at all," Ron said, looking hurt as they ascended the marble staircase.

Harry gave him a small smirk.

"I have faith in you, Ron. But faith isn't enough to get past Hermione," he replied. "To pull off what you want to do, you're going to need a bloody miracle."

* * *

Hermione watched as professor Snape closed, locked, then warded the door to his office, then cast a Silencing spell over it for good measure. Hermione's heart was pounding. Why was he taking such pains?

He turned to the witch, noting that she looked pale as a ghost.

"You were followed, Miss Granger. Probably by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. I saw their shimmers pressed against the wall, although it was rather strange. I could only see a bit of shimmer near the floor, apparently from the knees down.

Hermione was stunned. Harry and Ron had followed her? Damn them. She told them to leave her alone. She should have known they wouldn't' do it. But why hadn't Snape just gone out there and exposed them. He answered her question as he sat down behind his desk and gestured for her to take a seat in the chair before him. He had made the rickety bit of furniture more comfortable than usual for the witch, adding a small, flat cushion and strengthening the legs so they didn't wobble.

"I assume you're wondering why I didn't take the opportunity to expose them and take points from Gryffindor. I felt it wasn't as important as my conversation with you. I'm sure I'll find them doing something worth taking points for in the near future. They aren't the brightest brooms in the shed," he said, his eyes resting on her. She was nervously twisting her hands in her lap.

He had two topics to discuss with her, thanks to Draco. The wizard decided to give her a choice in what would be addressed first.

"Miss Granger," Snape began. "I need to talk to you about two important matters. I want you to be aware I consider you an adult, and will speak to you as an adult. The first matter concerns measures I wish to take to insure that Tom Riddle will indeed remove the hex if he is successful, and what I will do if he is unable or unwilling to do so. The second matter . . . "

The wizard paused, his silken voice becoming softer and silkier when he spoke again.

" . . . concerns what Draco Malfoy said to you in the corridor this afternoon. I heard him and feel you have a right to know if what he told you is true or not. I'm giving you a choice as to which matter you wish to address first."

Hermione stared at him.

If she chose to hear about Tom Riddle, then the final discussion would be about Snape's dealings with her counterpart. Hermione didn't know if he had shagged her or not. If it wasn't true, then the conversation would be short and she wouldn't have it on her mind when she returned to Gryffindor tower. But . . . if it were true . . . then it would be an awkward conversation to close their meeting on.

"I think I would like to know if what Draco said is true, first, Professor," she replied in a small voice.

Snape nodded.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Yes. It is true. I did engage your counterpart while she was here at Hogwarts," he replied.

Hermione began to blink very rapidly.

"It's . . . it's true?" she asked him again for verification.

"At the risk of repeating myself, yes, it is true, Miss Granger. Your counterpart made me several offers I found difficult to resist," he replied. "She was quite . . . compelling."

"What kind of offer could she have possibly made that you couldn't resist, Professor? You're one of the most disciplined wizards I know," Hermione replied.

"Discipline is highly overrated, Miss Granger," the wizard purred. "I'm only human after all, although among many that seems to be a matter of debate."

Hermione stared at him.

"I want to know what happened between you two, Professor. You know about me. I think I have a right to know what happened between you and my counterpart.

Snape frowned at her slightly.

"You should be careful what you ask for, Miss Granger. Curiosity killed the cat, and your representative house animal is a lion. That doesn't bode well," he said silkily, leaning back in his chair now.

"I have a right to know," Hermione said with more force now.

"Very well. But I will give you the edited version," the wizard replied, his dark eyes glittering.

"Listen closely, Miss Granger."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading


	31. Two Topics of Discussion

**Chapter 32 Two Topics for Discussion**

"From the very first, your counterpart was manipulative and willing to do anything to 'get her way.' As you are aware, their culture and rules are much different than our own, and I learned of this listening to her and the Headmaster speak. When we were left alone in the Headmaster's office, she implored me for assistance since I was a Slytherin. She was quite . . . persuasive and I agreed to speak to her further on the matter."

"So she latched on to you because you were familiar?" Hermione asked him.

Snape smirked.

"Familiarity had little to do with it. She was less than complimentary about my counterpart. She considered him weak and beneath her. She wouldn't 'engage' him as she did other teachers. She was attracted to me because . . . of my obvious dark nature and my house affiliation. She preferred it."

"How did she persuade you?" Hermione asked him curiously. Snape was very hard to talk to in most circumstances, although it was surprisingly easy to talk to him now. It was clear he wasn't going to be dirty about this situation. Thank the gods.

"Let's just say she took the hands-on approach, which definitely got my attention," the wizard purred.

Hermione colored as she realized the implications of this.

"In . . . in the Headmaster's office?" she said in disbelief.

"It's where we were at the time, Miss Granger," Snape replied.

There was a heavy silence between them.

"We had another brief encounter where she wished me to supply her with potions to protect herself," Snape continued.

"A healer's bag," Hermione breathed. "Everyone carried them."

Snape nodded.

"Again, we 'bartered," Snape purred. "She promised to engage me fully if she was moved to Slytherin house. She was moved, and we engaged the following night. That was the night you returned and asked me for the After Sex potion. It appears our 'trysts' coincided."

"Yes. Yes, it does," Hermione said softly, looking down at her hands for a moment, preparing herself to ask the next question.

"Professor, did your time with my counterpart affect you in any manner? I mean, was there a real attraction or was it just . . . sexual? Business as usual? Something you found easy to walk away from?"

Snape considered his answer carefully.

"It certainly was not business as usual, Miss Granger. I have few opportunities to enjoy the attention of witches, particularly sexually liberated witches like your counterpart. She was aggressive and forward, without scruples. Sex was a tool for her. I was affected, but not in a good way, I'm afraid. Her actions angered me. She made a pass at Draco even before we engaged, the first morning after she entered Slytherin house. I realized that was her way, but I found it hard to accept. I felt there should have been some loyalty to me, being that I helped her. Instead, she made it clear I had served my purpose by getting her into Slytherin house and our first engagement would be our last."

Snape's face contorted slightly.

"I didn't take that well either," he said in a low voice.

"You felt used," Hermione said softly.

"Yes," Snape agreed, then his eyes hardened. "As I usually am by those around me. It was just that in this case I could get a little of my own back. Our tryst was nothing like yours, Miss Granger. It appears each 'Snape' treated his version of you . . . accordingly."

"Accordingly?" Hermione repeated, her brown eyes resting on him. She had a little blush playing around her cheeks.

"Yes. Accordingly. Your counterpart was heartless, manipulative and out to get all she could from whoever she decided could provide it. After she received what she wanted, she tossed him aside. So . . . I treated her in the same manner, but physically. In your case . . ."

Here the wizard's face became less pinched.

"In your case, Miss Granger, my counterpart found a nervous, passionate young woman in need of comfort. One of good character, a sense of fairness, and a weakness for perceived nobility. You were 'grateful' for what he went through on your behalf and attracted to him. You acted within the framework of the established norm, not outside of it. Your interaction with my counterpart was what it should have been under the circumstances," Snape said softly.

"It meant nothing to him," Hermione said a bit bitterly.

"My interactions with your counterpart also meant nothing to her. I was simply a means to an end," the Potions master said quietly. "But in retrospect, we can't judge them too harshly, Miss Granger. After all, we willingly engaged them, knowing the differences between our world and theirs before we did so. We just weren't ready for it."

Snape met her eyes.

"Miss Granger, interactions of such an intimate nature mean something in our world, and we are both products of the environment in which we were raised. Although I am no stranger to the occasional casual encounter, this was something quite different. Sustained. Your counterpart was a witch I had interactions with more than once, and who attracted me greatly in a short period of time. Even I am not made of stone, Miss Granger. And I know you are not."

Hermione had one more question to ask about her counterpart.

"Professor, if it were possible for you to have a relationship with my counterpart, would you have done it?" she asked him.

"I doubt it, Miss Granger. Despite her skills, she was less than desirable for anything more than a physical tryst here and there," he stated flatly. "She lacked character and moral fiber."

Hermione studied him, then said softly, "You know, Professor, there are more than a few people who would say the same about you."

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"Which makes it even more imperative that if I did indeed have a relationship with a witch, it would be with one of strong character and moral fiber. I don't need one as callous as I am perceived to be. Now . . . if that Miss Granger had been you . . ."

Snape hesitated at the shocked look on Hermione's face, then scowled blackly.

"Not that I EVER entertained such an idea," he snapped at her. "You were not on my radar at all, Miss Granger. Not a jot or diddle. I heartily assure you of that!"

Hermione relaxed a bit. Now he sounded like the professor Snape she was familiar with.

"But, a witch of your character would be far more preferable. As irritating as Gryffindors are, there are qualities among the witches that I find . . . appealing."

Snape looked rather disgusted with himself at this admission and quickly added, "  
I chalk it up as a very severe personality flaw. A sort of psychological oxymoron in my nature. A weakness that has already cost me much . . . "

Snape's voice faded as he momentarily thought about Lily Evans, Harry's mother who married James Potter. He had loved her for much of his young life, but she didn't return his affections. She was his "friend" until she ended their association in his fifth year because she couldn't forgive his outburst of impotent rage when targeted by James and his friends.

Yes, Lily had all the proper Gryffindor qualities. Too bad she hadn't applied them to him. In the end, she preferred the popular, handsome, shallow, could-do-no-wrong Potter.

Snape frowned slightly.

"You were involved with a Gryffindor at one time, Professor?" Hermione asked him, amazed.

Snape started, his face contorting as he snarled at Hermione for the audacity of her question.

"No! I wasn't! None of that matters. I was just stating . . . I should have never . . . Just forget it, Miss Granger. Now, I've told you about my association with your counterpart. Are you satisfied?" he growled at her, wishing to end this conversation now that Lily had popped back into his head.

Hermione slowly nodded, feeling less troubled now. It seemed she and Snape had something in common concerning their interactions with their counterparts. There had been a feeling of being used in both cases. Apparently the professor had managed to work out his feelings physically. Hermione didn't have that closure. But at least . . . she didn't feel so alone. Someone else understood how she felt. Or at least could empathize.

What was more interesting however was his confession at having a weakness for Gryffindor witches, which had to mean he had been in love with at least one. But who? She also found it interesting that he would want a witch with Gryffindor qualities, rather than Slytherin. Perhaps, perhaps the deceitful life he lived had something to do with it. There were always hidden agendas, treachery, and lies surrounding him in his dual role. He could trust no one really. It would make sense that he would want a witch he could trust and find strength in. Someone loyal, kind and brave to be by his side. Not that he said he was actively looking. How could he look for anyone being who he was?

Snape abruptly and impatiently broke through her musings.

"Good, now on to the next matter. It is going to be very tricky discussing this with you. I cannot tell you any details, but in a few days time I will be in a situation that will be important to your well-being and continued tenure among the living. I want to bring you along with me. It has to do with the message you delivered.

"You mean from T . . ." Hermione began, but stopped as Snape brought his finger to his mouth.

"Don't speak. Listen," he warned her, then continued. "If you consent to accompany me, you will be under the influence of a Confundus potion. It works much like the Confundus charm, except an antidote has to be given for the effects to wear off. This potion scrambles your thoughts so they cannot be accessed by Legilimency. In other words, you will both appear and be useless. This is the best possible condition you can be in, considering the situation. You will have no idea what is going on around you until I give you the antidote," Snape said quietly. "You are going to have to trust me implicitly if you agree and ask me no questions. You must go forth blindly into the fray, Miss Granger, and I will be your only shield. Do you think you can trust me to this degree?"

Hermione stared at the pale wizard looking back at her, at his lank hair, narrowed eyes and slightly curled lip. Apparently, his mouth was held that way because he expected her to balk at his request and turn him down.

Gods, Snape looked so much like his counterpart, except he was thinner, and the harshness of his life showed on his face and in his eyes. But, she imagined if things were different, he would be as well. Maybe more like his other self. Not completely . . . but . . .  
"I'm waiting, Miss Granger. Your hesitance doesn't bode well. Will you accompany me, or won't you?" he asked her impatiently.

"I'll go, Professor. I trust you," she said softly. Snape had protected them all this time from Voldemort. She had no reason to believe he wouldn't continue to do so.

Snape nodded with approval, although he said, "I should have known you'd agree to participate in some scheme you know nothing about. That Gryffindor insanity loosely called 'courage' once again rises to the fore."

Hermione was indignant immediately. How dare he insult her house? Not to mention, her.

"Well, you practically said going with you could save my life. What else was I going to say?" Hermione snapped at him, pissed that he called her bravery, insanity. "If you ask me, saying 'no' would have been the insanity."

Snape's lip quirked at her little show of temper.

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?" Snape replied with a slight sneer, noting her brown eyes flashing now.

"Are we finished?" Hermione asked him furiously. She wanted to get out of here before she said something she'd regret. And it wasn't a good idea to insult the man who was trying to save your life, no matter how maddening he was.

Snape studied her, making her angrier by taking his time replying.

"Yes, we are, Miss Granger. I will retrieve you when it is time for us to go. There will only be nominal contact between us until then. You may go now," he told the witch.

Hermione stood up and glared at the wizard, then left without a word. Her counterpart must have been crazy to do anything with the Potions master. He was completely insufferable as a person.

Snape smirked as Hermione slammed the door behind her, not moved in the least to punish her for her impertinence. She had a bit of a temper and believed in defending herself. Both good qualities. He had no respect for witches who allowed themselves to be treated like doormats.

The Potions master stood up, opened the wall that led to his private quarters, entered and prepared himself a shot of Firewhiskey. He tossed it back and rasped appreciatively, Scourgifying the glass and putting it back into the liquor cabinet. Snape felt he had handled the delicate situation concerning Hermione's counterpart with honesty and finesse. The situation could have been more awkward than it was, but he kept it clinical and to the point.

Snape entered his bedroom and began to undress, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling off his boots and socks. He'd promised Albus he would go to bed at a proper hour. Actually, he'd taken an oath at the wizard's insistence. Albus wanted him well rested, hoping it would aid him in his upcoming ordeal. But just because he went to bed early, it didn't mean he would rest well. Severus Snape was always restless, always tormented by dreams just beyond consciousness. Again, he focused on Hermione as he stood up and unfastened his robes.

He'd gotten the preliminaries out of the way with the witch. Now, if all went well and she survived the ordeal, and the wizarding world wasn't completely upended, he could focus on his next move concerning Miss Granger. She was still a student, but his attraction to her was very strong. Some would consider his pursuit of her as a grave misuse of power, since he was her teacher and in a position of authority over the Gryffindor.

As the professor finished undressing and began to climb into bed, he recalled a quotation by the Muggle Thomas Huxley:

_Make up your mind to act decidedly and take the consequences. No good is ever done in this world by hesitation._

"In this world or for oneself, Mr. Huxley," the wizard said softly, sliding his nude body under the sheets.

He didn't plan to hesitate at all.

* * *

A/N: Snape handled that well. It could have been far more embarrassing for Hermione. Clearly, he doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, which is wise considering his plans for her if she survives Tom's hex. Hopefully she will with his help. Thanks for reading.


	32. Life on the Other Side

**Chapter 33 Life on the Other Side . . .**

In the days that followed her return to her world, Hermione set about half-heartedly making up her extra credit with her professors. Her lack of enthusiasm was a topic of some concern in the staff room as the teachers enjoyed their tea and cakes.

"I really don't know what's the matter with her," Minerva complained to Flitwick, who nodded in understanding. "When we engaged, it was as if . . . as if she no longer liked the taste of me. As you know, Filius, I consume large amounts of fruit in an effort to keep my flavor pleasant. Miss Granger made me feel as if I were . . . a chore."

Filius swallowed down a bite of cake, then smacked his lips in agreement.

"I know what you mean, Minerva. Miss Granger is usually quite appreciative of my oral abilities. It's all we do, you know, and I am quite familiar with her responses. I couldn't make her orgasm. Very unsettling. She didn't make the points she usually did."

"Her striptease was atrocious," professor Binns wheezed as he bobbed mid-air, drinking ghost tea. "No enthusiasm whatsoever." He sounded a bit like a vacuum cleaner when he spoke. His voice had an airy, droning timbre, guaranteed to put student to sleep in mere minutes.

Professors Sprout, Sinistra and Vector had similar complaints.

"Sounds to me as if Miss Granger could stand a little visit to the Medical Ward for a thorough examination," Poppy said, blowing on a cup of some steaming crimson liquid before taking a sip of it. "She could have picked something nasty up from that world that is interfering with her libido. I'd get to the bottom of it."

The other teachers looked at the medi-witch with wide eyes. The problem was, if Poppy got to Hermione, more than likely there'd be no bottom left to get to. Luckily, Poppy couldn't arbitrarily make appointments for students, or there wouldn't be any.

Snape sat listening to the complaints, sipping his tea quietly for several minutes before he spoke up.

"If I might interject an observation about Miss Granger?" he ventured.

Groans of "Must you?" and "What do you know?" met his request. But the wizard continued.

"Have any of you given the least consideration as to Miss Granger's position?" he asked them, setting his cup down on a nearby table and frowning at his fellow staff members.

"Who do you think we are, Severus? You?" Minerva sniffed. "You're the one who worries about students' feelings and personal situations, not us. We have better things to do than worry over them like brooding hens."

"And that is your problem, Minerva. You all descended on the witch like one randy entity, all demanding she make up her marks. You have to realize Miss Granger has never had to do extra credit work with ALL her teachers at one time . . ."

"Not all," Flitwick interjected rather nastily as the other staff members chuckled.

"That's beside the point," Snape replied tightly. "But can't you see your demands on her is what made her less than enthusiastic? She felt forced to engage you."

"Severus, every student at this school has a responsibility to keep up their marks. We are not asking Miss Granger to do anything that no other student has to do," Professor Sinistra said, her eyes narrowed. "We aren't taking advantage of the girl, just conducting business as usual. We have an obligation as teachers to insure she makes the very best marks possible. That's our job. For you to imply that we are doing her a disservice by requiring her to follow protocol is . . . insulting to say the least!"

The other staff members grumbled agreement. Snape just sighed. They were unable or unwilling to see what pressure they had put on the Slytherin.

"Fine, then," the Transfiguration teacher said, rising. "I won't say anything more about it other than this. You can be sure you will continue to have lackadaisical encounters with Miss Granger from this moment on if you don't cut her some slack and at least stagger your appointments with her. Even give her some time off."

"At least we have encounters with her, Severus. For all of your 'good intentions,' she's never considered lowering herself to dally with you. She'd rather take barely passing grades. You haven't even had the balls to fail her after all these years. If a student treated me in such a manner, they'd fail my class year after year," Minerva said flatly.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Class work and test grades account for something and I take them into consideration when I give marks. Miss Granger does the all the required assignments in a proper manner and does well on her exams, so she isn't failing. Despite the way we issue out extra credit, it is still a matter of choice for the student. Or should be. You've all seemed to have forgotten that little fact," he hissed. "You make it seem 'mandatory,' and fail a student if he or she doesn't engage you. If that isn't taking advantage of your charges and abusing your authority, I don't know what is."

Then the wizard turned and headed for the exit. He opened the door to leave and was hit in the ass by a stinger spell. Snape yelped as he was ejected through the exit, the door slamming behind him. All the teachers dissolved into laughter.

"Good shot, Minerva," Professor Vector cackled as the Potions mistress blew on the tip of her wand as if to cool it.

"I've had plenty of practice," she replied. "Besides, I can't stand his 'holier than thou" attitude, the sanctimonious twit. He needs to get with the program."

Outside the door, Snape fumed, his hands flexing into fists. He couldn't go back in there. They'd gang up on him and he didn't know who actually fired the hex, although he suspected Minerva.

He sighed and pulled his robes around to examine them. Yes, there was a singed spot on the fabric where the spell had hit him in the buttocks. He'd have to have it repaired.

Snape transformed into cat form so no one would see his ruined robes and hurried to his private quarters to change before his next class.

* * *

Minerva was on her way down to the dungeons, when she gripped her left forearm and grimaced. Damn, she was being summoned on a weekday. Well, she'd leave a note on the door that Potions was cancelled for the rest of the day. She had to answer the summons or she'd get it from both Tom and Bedaub Mules.

She hurriedly entered her office, scrawled a note and hastily walked down the corridor and magically attached it to her door. No doubt her students would be overjoyed, until she gave them double assignments at their next meeting. Then she hurried back to her office, warded it and entered her private quarters. She quickly donned the white robes of an Order member and Disapparated.

Minerva reappeared in a large, rather hot, barren, circular throne room lit by torches ensconced on the bare stone walls. Small bonfires burned in various places to provide heat for the one who resided there, the wizard who sat on a throne of bones, his piercing blue eyes fixed on his servant from beneath bushy white eyebrows set on a scaly, reptilian face. He was noseless, lipless, sported a long white beard and wore scarlet robes, with a matching pointed hat. Long white hair flowed from beneath it over his shoulders.

His snake Nagina, was coiled at the base of the throne. She lifted a third of her bulk and hissed at the witch as she dropped to one knee.

"I am your loyal servant, my Lord," Minerva intoned. "Ask of me what you will."

Dumbledore stared down at the witch with undisguised disgust.

"It seems no matter what I ask of you, Minerva, you are unable to provide it, you worthless sow," the Dark Lord hissed. "Stand up and face me, you poor excuse for a spy."

Trembling, Minerva rose, facing Albus Dumbledore, better known as Lord Bedaubs Mules.

"My humble apologies, my Lord," Minerva simpered.

"I don't want your apologies, Minerva. I want information! Crucio!"

Minerva screamed as the painful curse hit her. It was a short blast however, the wizard only wishing to make his point. He ended it quickly.

As Minerva stood shuddering before him, he demanded she give him news concerning Tom Riddle and his plans. Minerva didn't have any. Unlike the Dumbledore of the alternate world, Tom didn't give her anything to take to Bedaub Mules. He only expected her to bring him word of the despot's plans. So what if she was tortured? She placed herself in this position. She had to deal with it, bloody Pureblood.

Unlike Snape, who was pressed into service, Minerva had been discovered to be an Order member by Tom. She was a Pureblood after all, and had suffered the unfairness her kind was subjected too. Rather than turn her over to the Ministry for torture and execution for being a practicing member of the Order of the Serpent, Tom made her into a spy. But she had none of the support that Snape did. Tom could turn her over to the Ministry at any time and that knowledge kept her doing his bidding. But he considered her as inept as Dumbledore did.

Minerva desperately searched her memory for anything that she could tell the dark wizard to keep from being tortured. Unlike Voldemort, Dumbledore didn't whip his spying Potions mistress. He didn't like to leave scars. It would make him look abusive to the Purebloods who served him. He wanted to seem benevolent. His tortures left no visible marks, only psychological ones.

"My Lord, I don't have any information on Tom Riddle or the Death Eaters, but I can recount to you a very interesting occurrence that happened on the grounds of Hogwarts An alternate universe was accidentally accessed, one in which you serve as the Headmaster of Hogwarts and are deemed a great hero. There are some differences that you will find distasteful, however. Your counterpart favors Muggle-Borns and protects them as much as possible. And Harry Potter is under his wing as well."

The wizard's face contorted.

"I ask for information and you bring me fairytales? Crucio!" Dumbledore screamed, hitting her with the curse again, Minerva screaming in agony for about ten seconds before he released her and she fell to her hands and knees.

"It . . . it is no fairytale my Lord, I swear it!" she gasped desperately. "It involves the Mirror of Noisreva. A witch passed through it into our world, and her counterpart passed into hers. We gleaned much information about the alternate world. Tom Riddle is despised there, and promotes the Pureblood cause just as you do! Please allow me to explain this to you, my Lord!"

Dumbledore's blue eyes rested on her, his face sober as Nagina slithered forward, hissing at the fallen witch. Minerva quickly crawled back, cringing.

"Back, Nagina," Dumbledore hissed.

The snake turned upon itself and returned to the base of the throne. Dumbledore's cold blue eyes rested on the trembling witch.

"Very well, Minerva. Tell me this story," he said, tapping his wand on the arm of the throne. "For your sake, it had better be a good one."

* * *

Hermione sat alone in her room, working on her homework assignments, her door closed and warded with her signature so Harry and Ron wouldn't barrel in on her, demanding a shag. Both were rather angry with her. Four days had passed and she hadn't given either of them as much as a hand job. They didn't understand what she was going through with her teachers, or the rough bout of sex she'd had with the Snape of the other world before she returned. He'd been enough to put her off sex for months.

She'd forced herself to attend to getting her marks up the past few days, engaging her professors. For the first time, she felt dirty and used as they accessed her body and vice-versa. She received no pleasure from the acts she performed, but tried her best to hide how she felt.

She wasn't successful, because all of her professors were familiar with her in intimate situations. In fact, Hermione was a great favorite among them because she was normally so open and enthusiastic, so her change in demeanor was immediately noticed. As a result of her reticence, her extra credit marks weren't as high as usual. Points were deducted for "lack of enthusiasm."

"What did they do to you in that world?" a very frustrated Minerva complained at the end of their session.

"Nothing," Hermione had answered sullenly, refusing to offer anything more. Minerva angrily gave her a minimum of points and told her she needed to straighten up.

Hermione stopped writing and stared down at her parchment. It was an essay for Transfiguration class. Snape was the only teacher who didn't seem to be on her back. Because of her poor performance in private, all of her teachers were being rather harsh to her in class. They browbeat her in front of the other students for laxness, criticized her assignments and generally acted like bitches and bastards to her. Something else she had never experienced before. Before this, other people were targeted. Not Hermione Granger.

She did hex professor Flitwick, however, taking the opportunity when he was heading for Hufflepuff house with his back turned. She got him from the top of the marble staircase, hitting him with an Expelliarmus charm that ripped his wand away and sent him tumbling headfirst down the narrow stairwell he had been about to enter. Teachers usually walked through the castle with their wands out for protection against students. It hadn't helped Flitwick a bit, the little bugger.

She'd get the rest of them later. Even Minerva.

Hermione felt alone and ostracized. There was no one she associated with who understood what she'd gone through in the other world, no one who had engaged someone with a different set of rules and values . . . no one she could really talk to about it. Talking about "feelings" was considered a weakness in this world. But she had never needed to talk about her feelings. Before, it was as if she had none.

The situation had changed. In fact, there was only one person that believed in talking about "feelings." It just so happened that he was the only person she knew of that had also engaged someone from another world. Her counterpart in fact.

Hermione shuddered.

That person was Professor Snape, her Transfiguration teacher. She had no doubt he'd welcome her in to "talk." He lived for that kind of thing.

Hermione felt nauseous just thinking about it, but if she didn't talk to someone she felt as if she'd go mad.

"Damn it," Hermione hissed as she made her decision to talk to the wizard.

Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

* * *

A/N: Wow. Albus is a real bastard isn't he? And poor Snape, getting hit in the ass with a stinger spell. Lololol. I couldn't resist it. The name Nagina is written that way on purpose, indicating a slight difference from Nagini. Tom Riddle's "Fawkes" has darker coloring and black eyes, thus differing from Albus' "Fawkes." With the snakes I used the names to indicate differences. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	33. Planting the Seed

**Chapter 34 Planting the Seed**

The next day after Transfiguration class, Hermione lingered in the classroom, pretending to be absorbed in her reading. Ron poked her in the shoulder.

"Hey, Hermione, class is over," he told her.

She looked up at him in irritation, then over at professor Snape's desk. Apparently, what the other Hermione had told Draco about loyalty to his Head of House made its rounds, and a number of Gryffindors were making appointments for extra credit. Snape had been surprised by this. Normally his charges laid low when he was in "disgrace," trying to fit in with the other students who shunned him. This was an interesting development. Had his teachings finally begun to sink in?

It seemed so.

Hermione looked back at Ron.

"I'll be along in a bit, Ron. You go ahead," she said to him.

Harry stood by the door, scowling at the witch. Hermione had been acting strangely lately, making herself inaccessible, and this kept him in a bad mood. He had Ginny for comfort. But Ginny wasn't Hermione. Hermione was his friend as well as his lover and he missed her in a number of ways. He wouldn't tell her that of course. She'd laugh at him for being an oversensitive git.

"Maybe we should move you into Gryffindor, you whiney baby," she'd say to him.

Ron stood there stubbornly and Hermione reached into her pocket and put her wand on the table pointedly, not looking at him. He got the message and left.

Hermione waited for the last student to clear out, then walked up to Snape's desk. He was shifting through several parchments when he felt her presence and looked up.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he said pleasantly.

He was always so pleasant. Hermione scowled reflexively.

"I want to talk to you, professor . . . about . . . about my marks," the witch said. "I want to make an appointment to do it. Not an extra credit appointment, just a conference."

Snape nodded.

"Of course, not extra credit, Miss Granger," he replied, looking a bit curious, "but I've already told you your marks are in excellent standing. What more would you like to know?"

Hermione colored. Damn it.

"I . . . I just need to talk about them some more," she said tightly. "Will you give me an appointment as soon as you can? It's . . . it's rather important."

Snape suspected this was about more than marks. He could tell the young woman was troubled about something, more than likely her extra credit work, and was turning to him because she needed a sympathetic ear. Miss Hermione Granger was discovering the world didn't revolve around her, and she wasn't as in control of her life as she thought she was. She was getting a taste of reality, and it wasn't going down easy.

"I can see you after supper, in my office," Snape replied. He didn't write it down, however.

Hermione stood there a moment, then stiffly said, "Thank you," and walked away.

Snape blinked after her. He wasn't sure if she'd ever thanked him for anything before. Civility was definitely something new. He wondered what other changes he'd see when he spoke to her later. One thing was certain, he intended on doing more than listening. He had plenty to say to her that she really needed to hear. This might be his chance to get through to her, to finally influence a Slytherin around to his way of thinking.

He wasn't about to waste it.

* * *

After supper, Hermione arrived at professor Snape's office. He had taken his supper there, and had just finished when she knocked. A surly house-elf appeared and cleared his dishes, ears flattened and looking murderous. It winked out.

Snape let the witch in and offered her a seat in front of his desk, then sat down and folded his hands, studying her.

Hermione looked extremely put out, which was also something new. He was used to arrogance from the witch. She was even twisting her hands in her lap, showing outward signs of nervousness. That wasn't good at Hogwarts. It was like a signal to attack.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, then Snape addressed her.

"I don't believe you're here to discuss your marks, Miss Granger," he said to her softly.

Hermione looked at him sharply.

"What? Of course I'm here to discuss my marks!" she snapped.

"Then, why aren't you discussing them?" Snape inquired with a slight smirk.

"I'm . . . I'm thinking," she retorted angrily.

Now Snape smiled a bit.

"Yes. I believe you are, and I believe that's why you're here. I'm very aware of your situation, Miss Granger," the wizard said.

"What situation? I'm not in any situation," the witch lied.

"Your extra credit work hasn't been up to par lately," he said quietly. "And your marks are suffering because of it."

"What? How do you . . . what are you talking about?" Hermione gasped, shaken that he knew about this.

"It is a matter of much concern among the other teachers. They feel you've lost your 'fire.'"

"What? They . . . they discuss me among themselves?" Hermione asked, feeling exposed now. "And . . . and in front of you?"

"In front of whoever is present, Miss Granger, and in great detail," Snape responded.

"Oh gods," Hermione murmured. "How can they do that? Talk about me like that?"

"They consider it comparing notes, Miss Granger. Teachers do discuss students from time to time," Snape answered her. "Would you like to know what they said about you today? I can give you a Pensieve of the discussion if you like."

Snape had no qualms about letting the witch see for herself how callous her professors were. It was part of his plan.

Hermione hesitated. Yes. Yes, she wanted to know what they said about her.

"Yes, I want to see," the witch replied.

She watched as Snape walked over to his file cabinet and opened the lowest drawer, taking out a small blue Pensieve. He closed the drawer back and placed it on his desk, pulling out his wand. Using the tip of it, he carefully withdrew several silvery strands and deposited them into the bowl, making sure to include his own part in the conversation.

He put his wand back into his robes pocket, sat down and slid the Pensieve toward her.

"Go ahead, Miss Granger," he said, his dark eyes resting on the witch.

Hermione looked apprehensive as she slid the chair closer to his desk and looked down into the bowl. She froze in place as she entered the Pensieve.

Snape watched her for several minutes, looking thoughtful. Finally, she shifted, then looked up at him.

"You're right, you know," she said softly. "I feel so pressured, Professor. I've never felt like that before. And not one of them seems to care."

Snape nodded.

"It's business as usual, Miss Granger," he replied.

Hermione stared at him.

"But you . . . you stood up for me, tried to defend me. After the way I've treated you all these years . . . why?" she asked him. "I've never been nice to you."

"Miss Granger, this isn't just about you," Snape replied, "your situation allowed me to reopen a dialogue I've been trying to have for years with my fellow teachers concerning our students. As you saw, no one wants to hear what I have to say. They prefer the status quo. The truth is, Miss Granger, you are now experiencing what many of our students experience. The loss of choice. The pressure of performing sexual acts in order to graduate from this school. Extra credit is not mandatory, but all the teachers here have arbitrarily made it so in order to benefit from having a number of young students to indulge themselves with. Do you think Flitwick would be able to attract an attractive young witch on his own?"

"No," Hermione said softly.

"Do you think any of these teachers would enjoy the variety they do without requiring students to meet with them?" he asked her.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Most wouldn't, believe me," Snape said. "What makes it worse is that not only are these extra credit sessions made mandatory, they aren't regulated. A teacher can give the amount of points they wish on any particular day, regardless of what transpired. I imagine you've received lower points lately, although you've received higher ones before for the same act."

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, that's true," she replied in a low voice.

"As you've seen, I have a list that allows a student to decide what they will and will not do, with a point system. They know exactly how much credit they will receive when they choose to engage me. I've tried to have that list introduced into Hogwarts' rules and regulations to protect the students, but the Headmaster and staff are unwilling to change the status quo. They care nothing for the rights of students. I'm voted down every year."

Snape looked furious, and Hermione studied him in wonder. Did he really care this much about them? She had always thought Snape to be a bleeding heart, a wuss, a kind of . . . Save the World nutcase. But he was really trying to fight for something, and not to benefit himself.

She was finally starting to see the wizard as the man he was. And he wasn't weak or namby-pamby. He was driven, and rather courageous to stand up to his co-workers year after year, knowing they wouldn't take him seriously, knowing that they would refuse to change anything about the way they operated. No wonder they didn't like him.

"I didn't know that, Professor," Hermione said.

Snape looked at her with a wry expression.

"And why would you know, Miss Granger? As far as you and your housemates are concerned, I'm just someone to snub, ridicule and attack when my back is turned. It isn't your fault completely. The staff has much to do with it. Children learn what they see and hear. If the adults around them display disdain for an individual, so will those children. But they have to do it, Miss Granger, or else I might get through to all of you, and the changes they don't want, will be instituted because none of you will stand for the mistreatment another day longer."

Snape paused, drawing in a breath, trying to calm himself. After a moment, he continued.

"No one but my Gryffindors listen to me, and as you know, Gryffindor house is a house of primarily Purebloods, so they aren't taken into great consideration. They are considered 'inbred' 'lowborn' 'the least of witches and wizards' although they exhibit just as much magical ability as anyone else. Strength varies, but that's across the board. Still, my students aren't looked up to, aren't considered 'leaders' like those in the House of Slytherin. Like . . . you, Miss Granger. A Muggle-Born. One of the 'Chosen Ones.'"

Hermione was a bit taken aback by the sarcasm and derision in the wizard's voice. But she could tell it wasn't directed at her, but at the situation in general. Snape certainly was passionate about what he believed in. Hermione had never seen such passion in anyone.

Snape sighed.

"And how can they be leaders when they aren't respected as people, Miss Granger? Whatever good they wish to do is inconsequential when they're treated like lepers. They aren't lepers, Miss Granger. They are people, and every one of them just as good, just as worthy as those spoiled, arrogant, pampered students that reside in your house. Maybe even more so, because they live in the real world. A world you're now discovering. And you don't like that world, do you, Miss Granger?"

Snape's eyes were narrowed now, and he was full of the fire of truth as he spoke to the witch, letting his frustration out at the same time. He wasn't saying Purebloods should be treated as equals, he claimed they were equals.

"No. No, I don't like it, Professor. I can't help not liking being pressured. And instead of understanding, my teachers are treating me like . . . like . . ."

"A Pureblood, Miss Granger?" Snape said, his face contorted.

Hermione hung her head.

"Yes," she said softly, then added, "but what can I do about it, Professor? Just . . . just fail? If I refuse to do the extra credit, I won't graduate."

Snape considered her.

"Do you really want to know what to do, Miss Granger, or are you just wallowing in self-pity?" he asked her, a slight sneer on his face. It reminded her of the other Snape just a bit.

"No. I'd . . . I'd like to do something about it. To take control of what's happening to me. To have a choice . . . "

"Then, do something about it, Miss Granger," Snape said. "Don't accept what you know is wrong!"

"But that's not going to do any good! They'll still fail me!" she hissed at him.

"You have to realize, Miss Granger, that you are not alone in this world. This isn't just about how you feel and what you want. There are students in this school that feel just the way you do, but aren't voicing it. They're afraid to do so because, like you, they feel there is nothing they can do . . . they are just one person. But they aren't one person, Miss Granger. They're . . . an army."

"What?" Hermione breathed.

Snape stood up and leaned forward, willing her to understand what he was saying to her.

"You have an army, Miss Granger. There are students in your own house who are engaging teachers they don't want to engage out of fear of failing. If they had a choice, they wouldn't do it. They only need someone to make them believe they have a voice, that what they want matters. If you can get them to admit they are less than happy with the way things are, get them on the same page as you are . . . you will no longer be alone."

"What are you saying, Professor?" Hermione asked him, a feeling of unaccustomed fear boiling up in her belly.

Snape looked at her soberly.

"Boycott, Miss Granger. Refuse to do mandatory extra credit. Get everyone to refuse. The entire school. I'm talking about rebellion, Miss Granger. I'm talking about war. The staff can't fail all of you, or they will appear inept and there will be cries for their removal from this school. They value their jobs, Miss Granger. So you see . . . you do have power. All of you do. All you have to do is exercise it. The tables will be turned."

Hermione stared at the wizard, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly as he sowed the seeds of dissension and rebellion in the witch.

Hermione was so angry and frustrated with the status quo, that those seeds fell on fertile ground. Suddenly, she was filled with an urgency she'd never felt before as she looked back at the wizard. It was something strong, powerful, pushing her in a direction she had never taken, never needed to take. It seemed to well up from her very soul.

If she could have put a name to it at that moment, that name would be . . . Purpose.

Snape recognized that fire as it filled her brown eyes, and for the first time in a long time, hope filled his own heart. The witch sat up straighter, all signs of nervousness and helplessness gone.

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger had a cause.

"I'll do it," she breathed. "We'll do it."

* * *

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. You know, when I write stories that have exploitation in them, a part of me always wants that exploitation resolved. I don't always do it, because there is unfairness in the world and sometimes you just have to reflect that in a story. There can't always be clean, happy endings with everything wrong resolved. But, I felt that some changes were needed in the alternate universe, and that Slytherin Hermione was the perfect catalyst to promote that change, with the idealistic Snape's prompting, of course. I hope it reads as well as it sounded in my head. Thanks for reading.


	34. Garnering the Troops

**Chapter 35 Garnering the Troops**

Hermione returned to Slytherin house, carrying a handful of parchments. She entered the common room to see her housemates engaged in various activities. Harry and Ron were playing wizarding chess, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley and several others were doing homework assignments, and Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil were in an armchair, kissing and petting heavily, watched by a few younger students who were getting pointers. Others were play Snap and talking.

Hermione walked up to Harry and Ron.

"Follow me, you two," she snapped at them, her eyes narrowed. Then she spun and headed for her room.

"Hot damn," Ron said, jumping up immediately. "Looks like she's finally thawed out, Harry."

Harry looked after Hermione and stood up as well. He hoped Ron was right.

"Let's go then before another freeze sets in," he replied, following the witch.

The pieces on the chessboard sullenly repaired themselves and returned to their proper places, miffed that the mayhem had ended early without a victory. Harry's king wiped its small brow in relief. Ron's bishop and rook had been very, very close.

Hermione entered her room and put the parchments down on her small desk. She had barely turned around when she was crushed between Ron and Harry, who ground against her hungrily, Harry removing his glasses.

"Gods, Hermione," he breathed, trying to kiss her. "You certainly made us wait."

"Yeah," Ron said, running his hand down her thigh, his blue eyes hot and excited. "I've got so much wood for you, it feels like there's a tree in my briefs."

Hermione pushed them off of her.

"I didn't call you two in here to shag," she snapped at them.

Both Harry and Ron stared at her with disappointed faces, visibly slumping. Harry put his glasses back on.

"You're a bloody tease, Hermione," Ron muttered, poking out his lower lip a bit. That wasn't the only thing poking out on the wizard. His robes were fiercely tented as wall.

"I'm not trying to be a tease, I'm really not Ron," she said to him. "I called you two in here because I need you to do something for me."

Harry still looked sullen, but Ron's eyes grew hopeful.

"If it doesn't involve my cock, does it at least involve my tongue?" he asked her.

"No, Ron. But it does involved sex . . . in a way. What I want you and Harry to do is to tell everyone fourteen and over to meet me in the common room at nine o'clock. At curfew," she told them. "Everyone needs to be there."

"An orgy?" Ron asked, his eyes wide now.

"No, Ron," she said with a sigh. "Not an orgy. Don't you think about anything other than shagging?"

"Er . . . blow jobs," he offered to show he didn't have a totally one-track mind.

Harry grinned slightly at Ron's reply before he sobered.

"What's this about, Hermione?" he asked her, his green eyes covetous as they rested on her. He would have loved to shag Hermione.

Hermione looked at Harry.

"Harry, you've seen what's been going on with me in class lately, haven't you? How the teachers are all giving me a hard time," she said to him softly.

Harry nodded. He had noticed it as had the rest of Slytherin house, and everyone found it rather odd. Hermione had always been a favorite of the teachers.

"And, I know both you and Ron have been wondering why I haven't asked any of you to join me for a bit of slap and tickle," she continued.

"I'll say," Ron interjected, frowning.

"Well, it has a lot to do with that. I know you don't know what's going on with me, but after tonight, you'll know," she promised. "Everyone's going to know. I just need to get everyone together. This is big, Harry. Big."

So, whatever Hermione had up her robes sleeve was going to give them answers as to why she was acting so strangely? That would work. Harry, Ron and many others were dying to know what was wrong with her, but it wasn't wise to ask the witch questions she didn't want to answer. Harry nodded.

"All right, Hermione. We'll make sure everyone will be there," he said, watching as she walked over to her desk, sat down and picked up a quill.

"Good, you do that. I have to get my presentation ready," she said, taking a page of parchment out of the small desk's top draw to jot down notes on. "I'll be out at nine. I don't want to be disturbed before then."

"Presentation?" Ron mouthed at Harry, who shrugged.

"Let's go, Ron," he said, exiting Hermione's room, followed by the redhead.

"Damn, I was sure she wanted us to shag her," Ron complained as they walked down the hall.

* * *

At nine o'clock, a group of muttering, curious Slytherins gathered in the common room. They all wondered why Hermione had called them together.

"Does she want to have an orgy?" Neville asked Harry hopefully. He'd wanted to get at Hermione forever.

Harry shook his head.

"No, Neville. She's going to give some kind of presentation," he replied.

Parvati, who was sitting nearby, heard Harry and rolled her eyes.

"Boring," she said under her breath. "Who does she think she is, gathering us together as if we're her subjects or something?"

"Shut up, Parvati," Ron hissed at her, his eyes hard.

He had shagged her after her close call with the alternate Hermione, but he didn't like her any better. She was a toe rag as far as he was concerned.

Everyone fell silent as Hermione walked in purposely, her hands full of parchments. She handed them to Ginny, who was closest to her.

"Hand these out," she ordered.

Ginny looked at the parchments curiously, then did as Hermione asked.

The witch stood there, her arms folded and watched as the parchments were passed out, her housemates studying them with raised eyebrows, and exclaiming over them.

"What's this, Hermione?" Ron asked as everyone looking up at her with interest.

"What's it say on top?" she responded.

"Extra Credit List," Ron replied. "Some kind of checklist."

"Yes, that's right, Ron. That's exactly what it is. It's a checklist that lets a student pick out what they want to do and how many points can be earned for it," Hermione said.

Murmurs rose up as they looked at the variety of acts.

"Did you make this up? The teachers would never go for it," Dean said, frowning.

Hermione drew in a deep breath. Now was the hard part.

"Actually, that list belongs to a teacher," Hermione said. "It belongs to Professor Snape. He uses it so the students that come to him have a choice and know what they're earning. They don't have to do anything they don't want to do."

Now everyone stared at her.

"Professor Snape? Hermione, surely you didn't do any extra credit with him?" Ginny breathed as the rest of the Slytherins looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"No. No, I haven't. But I've been doing it with everyone else, and that's why I called you all here. When I came back from the alternate universe, not one teacher gave me any time to breathe or get my bearings. They all sent me notes saying that I needed to get my marks up and to report for extra credit immediately or my grades would suffer. All of them . . . almost at one time."

Everyone was silent. That had to be hard on the witch.

"And you know something . . . I didn't want to do it. I didn't feel like doing extra credit work with any of them. But I had to do it," she said, her voice quavering.

"So?" Parvati said, "We all have to do it, Hermione. Everyone knows that."

"But, Parvati, it's called 'extra credit.' It's not supposed to be mandatory. We're supposed to have a choice whether or not to engage teachers," Hermione retorted, frowning. "They're making us do it, and that's not right."

"That's the way it is," Parvati shot back. "What did they do to you in that world to make you such a milk-livered clotpole, Hermione? You've gotten weak. The teachers are treating you like dirt and you walk around here like your arse is dragging on the floor. Did they cut off your clit or something?"

Titters rose from the group and Parvati looked around smugly.

Suddenly, the witch found herself on the floor, her hair wrapped in Hermione's fist, and her wand pointed inches from her forehead. Hermione snarled down at her.

"You think I've gotten weak, Parvati?" she hissed as the other Slytherins moved away. "I assure you, I'm not weak, you bitch. Want me to prove it? Please, tell me you do."

Parvati looked up into Hermione's hate-filled eyes and swallowed. She had no doubt the witch would blast her from point-blank range.

"No," she whispered.

Hermione glared down at her for a moment, then released her.

"Don't get any ideas about blasting me while I'm talking, Parvati, or I'll make sure you have to visit Madam Pomfrey," she warned as she backed away.

Parvati clambered back up the sofa and sat down quietly, brushing her hair back, her face crimson. She didn't reply, but she got the message. So did the other Slytherins.

Hermione was deadly serious.

Hermione returned to her position in front of the others and brushed her hair back.

"Now, I know for a fact there are some of you who don't like engaging some teachers. Ron, you complain about having to bugger Professor Sprout all the time," she said to him.

Ron's face screwed up.

"Yeah. Well, her arse just seems to get bigger and bigger, and sometimes she doesn't . . . doesn't clean herself properly, and she won't let me wear a condom. Says it interferes with the feeling or something," he said as everyone's face screwed up in sympathy. "I hate it, but I have to pass the class."

"Exactly," Hermione said, latching on to this. "And Harry, you and Flitwick don't get on well either . . ."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Hermione looked around the room.

"I bet every one of you has had to do things you didn't want to do with teachers you didn't want to do them with, feeling there was nothing you could do about it," she said to them all.

Murmurs of agreement rose.

"The Potions mistress likes to tie ropes around my balls and lead me around her bedroom by them, calling me her 'big, black buck,' then . . . then makes me give her rim jobs, both before and after I bugger her" Dean admitted. "I hate giving rim jobs . . . and I think she knows that."

The students began to talk among themselves about what they didn't like about their teachers and the things they had to do. Hermione let them do it for a minute or two, before calling them back to order.

"See, we all have complaints. We're all in the same boat," Hermione told them and everyone agreed.

"Yeah, but what can we do about it?" Ron asked her. "I mean, we all agree that we don't like doing some of the extra credit, Hermione, but it seems like you're just pissing in the wind. We can't do anything about it."

Hermione's brown eyes drifted over her fellow students, a fire inside them.

"We can do something about it, Ron. We can boycott. We can refuse to do any extra credit until they agree to institute that list you have in your hands, and agree to give us proper marks for the work and tests we do. Do you know why Professor Snape has never failed any of us, despite the fact none of us do extra credit with him?"

"He's a wuss?" Ron answered as everyone stared at Hermione as if she'd grown extra appendages. Boycott extra credit? Was she mad? They'd all be stuck at Hogwarts for another year.

"No, Ron. He doesn't fail us because he takes our class work, homework and tests into consideration. He says what work we do matters, and passes us because we participate like we're supposed to do. He believes extra credit is just that. Something extra. So, he doesn't require it. A student can choose whether or not to engage him. He doesn't pressure anyone to do it if they don't want to, and he doesn't punish them if they don't. That's the way it's supposed to work."

"Hermione, if we boycott, they'll fail us," Neville said.

"No. No, they won't. Not if everyone boycotts," she said persuasively, "not if everyone in the school refuses to do it. Not just us, but the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and even the Gryffindors. They can't fail the entire school or they'll look like they're not doing their jobs and will get sacked!"

"What? You want us to work with other houses, Hermione? That's insane," a voice piped up.

Hermione scowled, unable to tell who made the comment.

"No, what's insane is that we let the teachers make us do what they want without a choice, give us the points they want to give us, and fail us when they don't like our performance. That's not right, and that's not how it's supposed to be. Don't you see? We can control them if we do this right. It's a lot better than trying to hex them when their backs are turned. They know how to protect themselves from that. This is another kind of attack. We hold their livelihoods in our hands. I know the students of the other houses have the same gripes we do. Not everyone wants to do Flitwick, McGonagall and the others. We all have the same complaint. By ourselves, we can't pull this off, but together . . . we can change how things go. Don't you see this? We're an army!"

The Slytherins all stared at her, confused, apprehensive looks on their faces. They had never worked together for anything . . . but what Hermione was saying made sense.

Hermione pulled out a parchment that consisted of several pages clipped together.

"You see this? This is a petition I've made for everyone to sign. Everyone in the school, all the students that are the age of consent. It tells what we want. Choice and point regulation concerning extra credit work. That our marks for class work, homework and exams are given full credit outside of any extracurricular activities, and . . . "

Hermione paused for a moment. This part was something she'd lifted from the other world

" . . . and the option to do written extra credit assignments as well. That way, we don't have to engage a teacher if we don't want to, but still be able to gain extra credit in his or her class."

Everyone perked up at this. Before, doing extra writing assignments always sounded like too much work, but now, after talking about how distasteful it was to engage unappealing staff members, it didn't sound bad at all. It sounded great, actually.

"And, after everyone signs it, I intend to present it to the Headmaster, to give him a chance to make the changes himself. If he refuses to do it, then we'll boycott," Hermione said, willing them to listen.

"Like I said, they can't fail all of us. Hogwarts HAS to have a graduating class. If they don't, they won't be considered a premiere institution any longer. Questions will be asked by the parents and the Board of Governors. And the Prophet would definitely find it news. In fact, we can leak the boycott to the Prophet. Don't you see? We can really do this! We can take control of what happens to us. But we have to stick together," Hermione said.

"I don't see what good leaking it to the Prophet will do, Hermione," Harry said, frowning. "Our parents or guardians all know about the extra credit. A lot of them attended Hogwarts too."

"Yes, they know about it. I bet some of them remember what it was like to have to do a teacher they didn't like, too. It's not that we're trying to stop it, Harry, just regulate it and have other options. It's not supposed to be mandatory. That's the point. It's reasonable if you look at it that way. I'm sure not one of our parents wants us to do anything we don't want to do. They'll back us, I'm sure of it. And even if some don't, so what? It's our lives, not theirs."

Hermione shook the petition at them, then walked over to a table with quill and inkwell, put it down, picked up a quill, dipped it into the ink and signed her name with a flourish. She looked over at her housemates.

"We can do this," she said. "Don't be a bunch of sniveling cowards. We're Slytherins. We manipulate others in order to get what we want. Well, we want our rights! Choice! Options! I don't want to have to do four teachers in three days to get a few lousy points. If I want to, that one thing, but if I don't . . . then I shouldn't have to. Neither should you. Now, if you've got any balls at all, get over here and sign this petition. We'll work on getting the other houses involved. I'll pass it around myself at breakfast in the morning. I'll go to every table and hand out flyers."

"Hermione, you can get in a world of trouble for that!" Harry said, worried now.

"It's not against the rules to visit other tables, or even to move around the Great Hall. We don't do it, but it isn't against the rules. I'm not afraid anyway. I'm tired of being treated like this. I'm going to do something about it. I'm willing to get in trouble to break the chains of oppression! I'm not just doing this for me, but for all of us, Harry. All of us!"

Hermione stood next to the table, her words ringing through the common room as her housemates looked back at her. There was silence for several moments, then . . . Neville Longbottom stood up.

"I'm with you, Hermione," he said, walking over to the table, picking up the quill and signing his name to the parchment as she beamed at him.

"I like Professor Sprout," the wizard said, turning to Hermione. "She's brilliant . . . but . . . I don't like shagging her."

"You won't have to do it anymore, Neville. All we have to do is stick to our wands," Hermione said to him with a smile.

Ron strode over, shouldering Neville out of the way and writing his name on the petition in large, bold script.

"You might like her, Neville, but I think she's a nasty old sow," Ron hissed. "She smells like fertilizer most of the time. Ugh! As if buggering her isn't bad enough."

One by one, the Slytherins signed the petition, chattering excitedly among themselves. Could they really pull this off? Only Parvati seemed sullen and put out, but . . . she signed it as well, avoiding Hermione's eyes as she did so.

Hermione watched them interact, her eyes glistening. It was happening. They were together on this. They were one.

Professor Snape was right. They did indeed have the makings of an army.

An army on the move.

* * *

A/N: Another enjoyable chapter to write. We're moving right along, aren't we. Now, how do you suppose Tom Riddle is going to react to this petition? Is he going to shoot it down, impose martial law? Institute torture as punishment? Hm. Don't know yet. Heh, heh. Well, actually I do . . . but you don't. Seems a bit unfair doesn't it? Lol. But I won't draw it out. We'll see next chapter before we return to the world of our Hermione and Snape. They should be setting out on their adventure by then. :). Thanks for reading, ya'll.


	35. The Petition

Chapter 36

After helping Hermione design the bare bones of the flyer and getting tossed out of her bedroom for trying to get a shag, Ron and Harry retired to their room. Harry stripped down to his briefs and climbed into bed. Ron stripped down as well, sitting in a small wooden chair and studying Snape's checklist in greater detail. His brows rose and fell as he read all the options. There certainly were a lot of them.

"Hey, Harry, listen to this. On this list there are check boxes for voyeurism, and for additional partners. I think that means Snape just watches too. You don't have to do anything with him. And here . . . mutual masturbation . . ."

Harry lay in his bed, looking up at the ceiling and listening to Ron exclaim over Snape's list. Harry hated to admit it, but it sounded all right. He had no idea Snape treated his students so fairly. He always believed that he was little more than a laughingstock, when actually . . . he seemed to be the coolest teacher at Hogwarts, despite being the Gryffindor Head of House.

Ron climbed into bed with Harry, rather than his own bed, but it was just to be there, not for any sexual reasons. He slipped his arm under Harry's shoulders and they lay there companionably.

"You know, Harry, I think maybe we've been wrong about Snape all this time. This is a good opportunity to get our marks up. My mum always complains about my Transfiguration marks," the redhead said thoughtfully. "I mean, it's not like we even have to do anything with him. Hell, we could go in there with a couple of witches and have a go while he just watches. That doesn't sound too bad, does it? It wouldn't even seem like we're doing extra credit. Sounds right fun to me. What do you think?"

"Doesn't sound too bad, Ron . . . but we've shunned him all this time. What will people say?" Harry replied quietly.

"I don't think they'll say much. Every other house already knows how fair he is. They'll just think we've finally come around," Ron answered him. Then his blue eyes narrowed.

"And imagine how much that'll piss off the other teachers, that we'll be going to Snape and not them. Especially if we boycott. That'll be a kick in their knackers, won't it?"

Harry chuckled at the thought of it.

"Yeah, it would be. Flitwick might explode, he'd be so put out," Harry agreed.

"So, what do you say? Think we should sign up tomorrow?" Ron asked, warming up to the idea. Harry shook his head.

"No, not yet. Let's see how the petition goes. Maybe the Headmaster will enact the rules without the boycott," Harry replied. Ron was always jumping the wand.

"Oh. All right, then," Ron said, sounding a bit reticent. "But, maybe we can go together the first time and wank off or something simple, just to see how he is. If he's not bad, then we can bring the witches next time. What do you think?"

"Fine, Ron," Harry said sleepily, rolling to his side. "Night."

"Night, Harry," Ron said, rolling the other way, his head full of the possibilities extra credit with Snape could hold. If this worked, he doubted he'd engage any other teachers with the exception of Professor Sinistra. With her green eyes, long black hair and shapely body, she was hot. And she was always up for a shag or a bit of oral sex. But Professor Sprout?

That old bird was history.

Ron shuddered involuntarily, then closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come and the excitement tomorrow promised to bring.

Hermione was one brave witch.

* * *

Hermione streamlined her approach, and the next morning she was out in front of the Great Hall with Ginny, handing out flyers to her fellow students from every house as they entered for breakfast. This was far better than doing it inside the Great Hall and she was able to get one to everyone, since all students had to attend breakfast. What was better was there were no staff members outside the Great Hall. They all entered through the staff entrance. So, although they might see students reading parchments, they wouldn't know who gave them to them. Well, not immediately anyway.

The flyer itself was eye-catching. It was on parchment with printed text and a bold headline, which was followed by the image of a nude teacher on her knees covered by red circle with a slash through it. The image was drawn by Ron and looked very much like a certain teacher he couldn't stand to engage.

The headline read:

**TIRED OF DOING EXTRA CREDIT WITH TEACHERS THAT TURN YOU OFF?**

Harry thought both the headline and the image were too inflammatory, but Hermione and Ron argued that it had to be that way to get people's attention.

The flyer continued:

**Tired of performing acts you don't like?  
Tired of receiving whatever points they feel like giving you?  
Tired of not having any other options?  
Tired of not having a choice of what happens to your body?**

**JOIN US! SIGN OUR STUDENT'S RIGHTS PETITION AND LET THE HEADMASTER AND STAFF KNOW HOW WE FEEL!**

**By standing together as a whole, we can change this unfair system! **

**What do we want?**

**_1) An itemized checklist where we can choose what acts we are willing to do, with a strict across the board point system so we know how many points we'll earn._**

**_2) Our class work, homework and exams to account for our total marks in each subject._**

**_3) For extra credit to be a real choice and not mandatory as it is now._**

**_4) Alternatives to sexual extra credit work for those classes taught by teachers we don't want to engage, such as written extra credit and special projects._**

**AS A UNITED FRONT, WE CAN MAKE A CHANGE! IF YOU ARE TIRED OF THE STATUS QUO, ADD YOUR SIGNATURE TO OUR PETITION AT LUNCH AND SUPPER.**

**WE MAY BE STUDENTS, BUT WE HAVE RIGHTS TOO!  
**  


* * *

Needless to say, the flyer caused quite a stir, although the students were hushed discussing it in the Great Hall itself. Still, the staff members couldn't help but notice all their charges were reading something.

"What are the students reading?" Minerva said to Tom, who looked a million miles away.

The Headmaster started, scanning the Great Hall.

"I don't know," he replied, then leaned forward and called down the dais to professor Snape.

"Severus, go and collect one of those parchments for me," he ordered.

The Transfiguration teacher did as he was asked, walking to the closest table and taking a flyer from a student, then walking back slowly as he read it, keeping his face carefully neutral as he mounted the dais and delivered it to the Headmaster. He returned to his seat without saying a word as Tom looked at it.

He smirked when he saw the image and held the parchment out so Professor Sprout could see it.

"Pomona, is that supposed to be you?" the Headmaster purred as she turned red as a salamander and started huffing indignantly.

"How dare they!" Pomona snapped as Tom chuckled and withdrew the parchment to study it more. The image alone was very entertaining.

The Headmaster coolly read the contents of the flyer, arching an eyebrow as Minerva and Flitwick, who was on the other side of Tom, read along, turning redder and redder as they did so. Tom finished reading and looked thoughtful before looking out toward the silent students.

"It seems your students are rebelling," he said softly, his dark eyes scanning the Great Hall. All the students seemed to be holding their breaths.

"This is sheer madness!" Minerva exclaimed. "Headmaster, you need to put a stop to this at once!"

Tom narrowed his eyes at her as she took the flyer from him and passed it down the table, each teacher scowling blackly at it before passing it on and glowering at the students.

"What do you suggest I do, Minerva?" he asked her in a deceptively calm voice. He hated anyone to order him about, but he kept himself under control. His dark eyes rested on Minerva, glittering.

"Well . . . make an announcement here and now that no one is to sign any petition. How dare they try to curtail us, the little bastards. I want to get to the bottom of this immediately and punish whoever put this flyer out!"

Tom considered this for a moment, then slowly shook his head..

"No," he said slowly. "I don't think I will, Minerva. Let them sign their petition. I'm interested in finding out just how many of our students want this change. They aren't asking for the extra credit to cease, after all. Just some alterations."

Minerva turned purple as did the other staff members.

"Surely you aren't thinking of putting such a thing in force, Tom?" she asked him. "You're supposed to support us."

Tom scowled at her, and the witch blanched, remembering her place.

"No, I'm not. But I can't just arbitrarily put a movement down before it actually becomes a movement, Minerva. There has to be some sembelance of listening to their complaints and considering their requests. Then, I can shoot them down. Don't worry. I'm not going to take your toys away."

The teachers all sighed with relief. Good. But still, they wanted to know who had the nerve to put such a flyer out. Well, they'd find out when the petition was turned in.

Then, there'd be hell to pay.

Tom returned to his meal, as did the staff, although they continued to glare at the students.

Minerva looked down the dais at the Transfiguration teacher, who was eating his meal calmly and not glowering at anyone.

"This stinks of Snape," she muttered to herself.

At the tables, the students were flabbergasted that the Headmaster didn't order them all caned for even having the flyers.

"I don't believe it," Ron breathed. "The Headmaster didn't say or do anything after reading the flyer. He just went back to eating."

Hermione smiled.

"That means he's going to let the petition be signed. Otherwise, he would have said something about it," she said. "He's going to give us a chance to plead our case."

Around the Great Hall, the rest of the students were coming to the same conclusion. If the Headmaster didn't say anything against the petition, maybe it was all right to sign it. Maybe . . . maybe they could change things for the better.

* * *

"Look at all the names," Hermione breathed after lunch let out. "I'm sure every student that's the age of consent signed this."

In her hands, she held the precious petition. Every page was filled with names. She had made sure that it stated only those students the age of consent were to sign, so no names could be determined worthless because of younger students not affected by extra credit.

"Yeah," Harry said as they headed for class, 'and every staff member saw you collect it at the end, Hermione. You're going to be on their radar."

"Bugger them. I'm already on their bloody radar," Hermione replied, duplicating the petition and handing it to Harry.

"You keep this one," she told him, watching as he rolled it up and put it in his pocket. "Just in case mine disappears."

Harry was right. The next class was Advanced Charms and Flitwick was in a right temper, glaring at Hermione and giving her a failing mark on a perfectly good homework assignment because it was two inches over the requirement.

"Little troll," Hermione breathed as it was handed back by the student seated in front of her. "He's had his last lick of me, he can believe that."

In almost every class, teachers were subtly defending themselves, not mentioning the petition but claiming that they were fair with their methods of point-giving, and not overly demanding in their sexual requirements, doing their best to try and convince the students. Good thing it wasn't a broom they were tossing at their charges, because what they were saying just didn't fly.

"None of you can say that I haven't been fair with extra credit marks," Professor Sprout claimed as Ron frowned at her. "I require very little of you and I feel I'm generous with the points I reward. I wouldn't like that curtailed. You might end up earning less points with this . . . this checklist. None of you want that do you?"

Not one student murmured in agreement. Professor Sprout's comments were met with stony silence.

"Very well. We'll be working with Putrid Pines today! Get out your blasted masks and gloves!" professor Sprout snarled, going to retrieve the smelly seedlings. If the students insisted on pursuing this madness, they'd suffer for it.

The teachers who were Heads of Houses tried using house loyalty to make the students reconsider the petition.

"As the Hufflepuff Head of House, I expect you all to be supportive of me. I'm a very fair teacher, if I say so myself," Flitwick told his students in a small meeting.

Hufflepuffs weren't supposed to be very bright, but even they weren't buying this. None of them responded favorably.

Tom had warned the teachers they couldn't ask students directly if they signed the petition, or threaten them in any way if they had. The teachers didn't like this, but at least they had someone they could harass and blame.

Snape.

Every one of them knew the checklist was his. Minerva, Flitwick and Pomona cornered him in the staff room when he popped in for a quick spot of tea before his last class.

"Severus! This petition the students have signed stinks of your influence," Minerva hissed at the wizard, who wisely placed a strong repelling spell on his person the moment he left breakfast. He kept strengthening it throughout the day.

The Transfiguration teacher said nothing, but discreetly slipped his hand to the handle of his wand as he walked over to the teapot.

Minerva stalked over to him, watching with narrowed eyes as he calmly made a cup of tea.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she demanded. "You're the only one who could have given them the checklist idea!"

Snape turned to face her, blowing on his tea and taking a small sip of it before responding.

"Minerva, I've been using that checklist for years. It's nothing new. Every student that comes to me for extra credit has been aware of my system," he said softly. "Every year I've tried to make it mandatory for the rest of you. Every year I've been laughed at and voted down. Now, you're acting as if I've just introduced it. Like I said, it's nothing new."

Minerva and the other staff members frowned at him. He was telling the truth. He had been using that blasted checklist for years while they did as they pleased with the students. What happened to make it become a school-wide issue?

Flitwick caught on immediately, and frowned at Minerva as Severus made short work of his tea and exited the staff room.

"Minerva, the only students who wouldn't know about that checklist are your Slytherins. Miss Granger was the one who collected the petition. We all saw her. Your house is at the bottom of this. They're the only ones who would think that checklist something new," he squeaked at her, "because they are the only students who don't engage Snape. You have to do something about this."

Minerva stared back at him.

"But what can I do? Tom's curtailed us for the most part. We can't even question the students about it," the witch responded sullenly.

"No, we can't," professor Sinistra interjected, gliding closer to Flitwick and Minerva, her green eyes narrowed. "But . . . in the case of new movements, what is the best way to end them before they start?"

Both professors looked back at the Astronomy teacher.

"Remove the leader," she continued, her face taking on a wicked mien. "And we all know who the leader is . . . the one who collected the petition. Hermione Granger."

Minerva looked very hesitant.

"Yes. Severus warned us that we were pressuring the witch. She's lashing back at us now. We all know there are students who don't like their extra credit, which makes it a little sweeter for me, but still it seems Miss Granger has managed to pull them together, despite what houses they occupy. We have to divide them. Professor Sinistra is right. We need to remove Hermione Granger. She's their rallying point," Flitwick said.

"I'm not about to kill a Muggle-Born in order to keep the status-quo," Minerva said. "Especially one of my own house. You forget, Tom favors her."

"I'm not saying kill her, Minerva. Simply hex her . . . send her to the infirmary," Flitwick pressed as Minerva's eyes widened with horror.

"I'd be murdering her by default if I sent her to Poppy," she snapped at him. "I won't be part of this! Besides, Tom isn't going to grant the petition. We should wait."

"Wait for what? Do you think it will stop at Tom saying no? I'm familiar with movements of this nature. This is grass roots. They have no respect for the establishment, Minerva. I wouldn't be surprised if they had a sit-in, or worse . . . a boycott."

"A boycott? Filius, don't be stupid. They'd all face failing," she replied.

"This isn't one or two students, Minerva. This is most likely the entire graduating class, as well as others the age of consent. We can't fail them all. If we do, we'll look inept, and there will be cries for our replacement. They will blame us for their failure, saying our teaching abilities are below standard. If the students realize this, we're finished unless we bow to their demands. I for one don't want to be bested by a gaggle of sniveling students. We need to remove Miss Granger," Flitwick said forcefully. "At least until the hubbub dies down."

Minerva hedged.

"I won't do it, Filius. Miss Granger is my charge and under my protection. As much as I disagree with what she's attempting to do, I won't be party to this," Minerva said firmly.

Flitwick's small face contorted furiously, and his devilish white curls seemed to become even more curled and devilish.

"Protection? Pah! That's just lip service and you know it, Minerva. You're just too cowardly to do what needs to be done. But don't worry," the diminutive wizard breathed, I will remove her myself."

* * *

Professor Snape was pleasantly surprised at his Advanced Transfiguration class. When he entered the classroom, he noticed there were no drawings on the board of him in tutus, tiaras or with fairy wings. Usually one or more Slytherins would make a sketch like that for him to erase before starting class each day. There was also a lack of note passing, or clumps of parchment whizzing past his head. In fact, it was the best behaved class he'd had in ages.

He guessed his checklist had made an impression on the Slytherins, as well as Hermione. Gods, she moved quickly. In one day the witch managed to accomplish what he'd been working toward for years. A unified student body.

He covertly looked at the witch. She was absorbed in her reading.

The wizard's black eyes glittered as he studied her. He knew what he was thinking was wrong and went against protocol. He could be sacked for what stirred inside him.

Desire. He desired Hermione Granger . . . and it had nothing to do with business as usual. Who would have believed such a shallow, self-absorbed witch would have the ability to do what she did? Oh, no doubt she wanted revenge on the teachers.

Snape wasn't under the delusion that hers was a selfless act. Not by a long shot. More than likely, the desire for payback played a large role in motivating Hermione, as well as her anger and the desire for control. There was no way she could have changed completely.

But she didn't need to change. She only needed to reach inside herself and find the strength to work with others, to realize she was part of something larger. Possibly, the trip to the alternate universe had opened up her eyes and shown her the world or worlds didn't revolve just for her.

Whatever the witch's motivations, she had succeeded where he had failed. She was making a difference. Snape really didn't care how change came about, or who received the credit for it. He just wanted to see it in action . . . to see results. Already, it seemed his fellow teachers were running scared. It was glorious.

Hermione looked up at him at that moment and met his eyes. He nodded at her slightly, and she gave him a small, crooked smile before returning to her reading.

As he scanned his quiet classroom and all the studious students, he wondered if any Slytherins would be signing up for extra credit soon. After all, he was the only teacher with a checklist. Wouldn't that be a kick in the nads for the other teachers? That he would be the only one the students would engage. It would go down hard, especially after all the years of taunting him concerning Slytherin house.

It would finally be his turn to do a bit of psychological tormenting.

He looked forward to it.

At the end of class, Snape asked Hermione to stay for a moment. She did so, watching as several Gryffindors made appointments. She idly wondered how he handled so many of students. More than likely he didn't engage each and every one the same way. He might not do much shagging at all, or see several students at once. He had to have some kind of system.

When the last Gryffindor left, Hermione walked up to the wizard's desk. He looked up at her wryly.

"You work quickly, Miss Granger," he said to her softly.

Hermione nodded.

"Well, I didn't want to let another day pass without doing something," she said. "It was surprisingly easy to pull it all together, considering I've never done anything like this before."

Snape nodded.

"Perhaps it was in you all the time, Miss Granger. You only needed a reason to let it out. That was quite the flyer . . . very eye-catching. Particularly the banned teacher."

Snape's lip quirked a bit at the thought of the naked professor Sprout.

"Ron added that," Hermione said, smiling.

Snape drank in her smile. It was also something new. Usually she scowled at him or just stared at him as if he were a troll.

"Very creative, as was the fist in the lower right corner," the wizard stated.

"Dean Thomas added that. He said it represented 'Power of the People,'" Hermione replied. "We needed a symbol. An upraised fist was perfect. It says it all."

"Yes, a very effective logo. How did the petition signing go?"

"It's all filled up. Everyone signed it."

Snape felt his heart catch at learning this. Excellent.

"And when do you intend to present it to the Headmaster?" Snape asked her.

"Tomorrow, right after breakfast," Hermione answered.

Snape considered her.

"Do you have someone to support you?" he asked her. "Someone who will accompany you?"

Actually, he would like to be there when she presented the signed petition to the Headmaster.

"No, I'm going to do it by myself, in case there's trouble," she replied. "There's no need for everyone to suffer."

Hm. Was that a self-sacrificing nature coming to the fore? No. More than likely she wanted the glory of success for herself.

And Hermione did. If Tom accepted the petition, it would be like she'd done it single-handedly. She'd be a hero to the other students. She liked the idea of that.

"Don't threaten him, Miss Granger," Snape said suddenly. "The Headmaster doesn't like to be threatened. If he denies the petition, simply listen to his reasons, thank him and leave. Say nothing about boycotting. Not a word."

Hermione blinked at the wizard.

"You think he'll turn it down, Professor? I mean, he didn't try to keep it from being signed."

Snape shrugged.

"You never know what Tom will do until he does it. But I'm inclined to believe he won't accept it, not at first. He does have to support his staff. You'll just have to see what he says, then act accordingly," he told the witch. "But I must say, Miss Granger . . . and I mean this with every fiber of my being, you are the most extraordinary witch that has passed through Hogwarts in years. You are truly a brilliant young woman."

Hermione flushed with pleasure at his words. She'd never been called brilliant before, and it felt . . . well . . . good. And he thought she was extraordinary? Well, she'd thought that about herself for years, but somehow, hearing it from Snape felt like a validation. The other teachers had said it now and again, but their words didn't have the impact that Snape's did.

Snape noticed the flush and smiled slightly. His compliment had pleased her. But he did mean it.

"Now, Miss Granger, I realize I'm not your Head of House, but I am probably the only teacher at Hogwarts that sides with you. In order to make this work, you are going to have to work with people you normally wouldn't associate with, and that includes me. If you are having difficulties, want to strategize or just want to talk, I am available at any hour to assist you."

Snape reached into his top drawer and took out a number of small, square parchments. He handed them to the witch. They were signed passes. The name, date, time and destination fields were all blank.

"These should help you and other students move freely around the castle at off hours. I will provide more as needed. Be sure to keep them well hidden. Your room will probably be searched in the days to come. A reason will be found for it," he said to her softly.

Hermione looked down at the passes, then at Snape.

"I never thought you'd be so helpful, Professor," she said to him.

"You never had a reason to really think until now, Miss Granger. I imagine you'll find many more things that will surprise you in the months to come," he responded.

Hermione stared at him, feeling she should say something to the wizard. He had been the one who helped her find a solution to her problem. Thank you just didn't seem good enough. But she wasn't used to expressing gratitude. She had always lived as if she deserved everything given to her.

"Fill out one of those passes to get you into supper," Snape said, passing a quill to her.

Hermione filled out her name, date, time and destination, handing the quill back to him. Their hands touched for a moment, and she felt a little pulse at the contact. What was going on?

You may go, Miss Granger," Snape told her. He had felt the pulse as well.

Definitely not business as usual.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said in a near whisper, putting the rest of the passes into her pocket, hoisting her backpack over one shoulder, then turning and exiting the class. She still felt out of sorts, as if there was something she should say to the professor . . . but he'd let her off the hook.

Maybe later she'd figure out what she needed to say.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stood Disillusioned in the entrance hall, watching for Hermione. He was hiding behind the rusted suit of armor near the front doors. He wanted to talk to the witch about the petition and saw Snape had held her back. He could have approached her at the end of class, but despite the petition, he wasn't sure if she would even talk to him. She was always dismissive and rude.

And so hot.

Still, he'd rather approach her when no one else was around. It would be less embarrassing if she responded nastily.

Draco sighed, then stiffened as he saw Hermione appear on the first floor landing, making her way down the marble staircase. There were no students about. Everyone was in the Great Hall. He was going to get caned for not being there himself, but talking to Hermione would be worth a caning.

Hermione made it to the ground floor and began to walk toward the Great Hall. Suddenly, Draco saw a movement on the side of the marble stairwell. It was professor Flitwick, and he had his wand out. The little teacher looked murderous as he watched the retreating witch.

Draco got a bad feeling, and before he could stop himself, he ran from behind the suit of armor, screaming, "Granger! Get down!:

Startled, Hermione spun, whipping out her wand just as Flitwick cast a powerful spell at her. But she was a fraction too slow. She wouldn't be able to block it.

"No!" Draco cried, slamming into Hermione and shoving her out of the way, catching the full blast himself and falling to the floor unconscious, the Disillusionment spell dissipating.

Hermione yelled, "Stupefy!" as Flitwick blinked at the limp body of Draco, stunned in more ways than one. He dropped to the floor rather heavily for such a small man.

Hermione ran over to Draco, who was unmoving, his lips rather blue. She leaned over him, pressing her ear to his chest. She could hear his heart beating, but it was slow, very slow. She lifted one of his eyelids to look at his eye. The pupil was fully dilated. She lit the tip of her wand and held it close. The pupil remained dilated. It didn't react to light.

What did Flitwick hit him with? Clearly, the wizard had meant to attack her. She hadn't thought to put on a Repelling spell. And Draco? What the hell did he do? Why did he take the hex for her? Was he mad?

What should she do? Go into the Great Hall and get help? No, Draco could end up being sent to Poppy, especially since he was a Gryffindor and Snape wasn't the most popular staff member right now. If the Transfiguration teacher had been in the Great Hall, it would be all right, but he was still in his classroom.

Or so she thought.

Suddenly, she heard Snape yell, "Miss Granger! Did you attack Mr. Malfoy?"

The wizard had just appeared on the first floor landing, and when he saw Hermione leaning over his charge, he assumed the worst. Snape hurried down the stairs, severely disappointed. There couldn't be any unity if the students continued attacking each other, particularly Hermione.

Hermione quickly explained what happened.

"No! I didn't do this. He, he took a hex for me. Flitwick tried to blast me when my back was turned, and Draco just appeared out of nowhere and pushed me out of the way," she said as Snape walked up quickly and knelt, examining Draco. After several moments, he looked very grave.

"Go to supper, Miss Granger," he said, picking Draco up in his arms and rising. "I'll attend to Mr. Malfoy."

"But . . . what are you going to do, Professor? Take him to Poppy?" she asked him.

"No, I'm taking him to Gryffindor tower. I will attend to him myself," the wizard replied, walking toward the stairs and glowering at the unconscious Flitwick. He stopped and turned toward Hermione.

"I suggest vigilance, Miss Granger. It appears that although house rivalries may have died down for the moment, the staff has targeted you. Keep a Repelling charm on you at all times."

Hermione watched as Snape carried Draco up the stairs, his pale face concerned. What had Flitwick done to Draco?

Hermione looked over at the unconscious wizard, her face contorting. She looked up again. Snape was now riding the shifting stairwells up to the seventh floor. Hermione walked over to Flitwick, looking down at him . . . her wand drawn.

"You little bastard," she breathed, hexing him, then turning and entering the Great Hall.

She walked up to the dais and handed Filch her pass. The wizard scowled and stuck it in his pocket. Hermione then walked to the Slytherin table, sat down between Ron and Harry and pulled food toward her.

She said nothing to anyone about Draco or the teacher outside.

* * *

A/N: For those of you who would like to see the flyer Hermione, Ron and Dean designed, you can view a jpg of it at: theburningpen . com under the this story's chapter 36. The link is in the author notes. Thanks for reading.


	36. The Birth of a Rebellion

**Chapter 37 The Birth of a Rebellion**

Professor Flitwick finally made it into the Great Hall. Silence fell as he climbed up the dais and walked past the staff members, only his little legs showing beneath the table before he hoisted himself into his seat groggily, all the staff members gazing at him.

Tom Riddle arched an eyebrow at the wizard's condition while cutting into his very rare steak.

"My, Filius, you seem to have come out on the bad end of a hex," the Headmaster commented, sliding a dripping piece of meat into his mouth and chewing blissfully.

The Charms teacher pulled a plate of chips towards him rather sullenly and didn't reply. He winced painfully as he picked up a fork.

Low murmurs began again in the Great Hall.

"Blimey, what happened to Flitwick? He's covered in boils," Ron said. "Nasty"

It was true. Painful looking, red boils covered the little wizard's skin, some oozing fluid.

"Looks like he's been hexed with the Furnunculus charm. Why doesn't he use the Episkey spell to heal himself?" Harry wondered out loud.

"Probably something's interfering with it," Dean Thomas said, chewing a piece of pork chop. "Usually Flitwick can throw off a hex. Maybe someone added a signature or something and it has to weaken before he can do anything."

A signature was like a personal sealing spell attuned to one particular wizard or witch to make a spell stick longer. Usually it could only be applied to inanimate objects. It took a lot of talent to cast a signature spell on a living creature. A lot of talent and a lot of intent. Whoever did this to Flitwick had to have wanted the spell to stick badly.

"Hm," Harry breathed, looking around the Great Hall. "Snape's not here. Think he did it?"

Hermione continued eating, not offering anything.

"Snape? Maybe . . . if Flitwick went for him first. You know he doesn't attack people first," Ron said, shaking his head slightly. "He'd get a lot more respect if he did."

"You know, Draco's not here either," Ginny piped up from the other side of the table. Ginny noticed Draco's absence because she had a thing for the handsome young wizard. She didn't act on it although they were both Purebloods. It was because he was in Gryffindor and she was concerned about what people would say. Ginny was considered acceptable because of the ambiguity of her bloodline. No one was sure just how "pure" the Weasleys were. But Draco's background was well-known. His Pureblood lineage went back generations.

"He'd better have a good reason, but I doubt he does. If he were in the infirmary, Madam Butcher wouldn't be down here," Ron said, looking towards Poppy, who was on the dais eating with the rest of the staff.

It was a good thing she was, because at this very moment, professor Snape was raiding her stores for potions.

He picked his way through the infirmary, eyeing the racks, manacles, restraining cots and horrible spiked medical instruments lying on tables, some with blood on them. He shuddered as he made his way to the back of the room. The entire area stunk of old blood. It smelled like a slaughter house.

He wasn't about to ask Minerva for any potions. She would tell him she was out because of the petition situation. He knew how she operated. And Filch would want something in return, more than likely a torture session. As worried as he was about Draco, Snape wasn't going to take another caning or worse.

There were cobwebs on the stores cabinets. Snape cleared them with his wand. Poppy rarely used potions or magic to treat her patients. She preferred the "natural" approach. Bleedings, leeches, stitches, water immersion and the like.

Since Poppy didn't use magic, there were no magical alarms. Normally the infirmary was safe just because no one ever wanted to go there. So Snape was able to collect quite a supply of potions. He doubted she would even notice they were gone unless she saw the lack of cobwebs. He filled his pockets with reduced bottles and hurried out of that horrible domain swiftly, returning to Gryffindor tower.

He entered Draco's room and placed all the potions on the nightstand by the young wizard's bed, then looked down at him. He had removed all his clothing except for his briefs, then contacted his father, Lucius Malfoy, via magic mirror, who told him he'd be sending a private healer as soon as he could secure one. Snape promised to do all he could in the meantime.

He stared down at Draco. He was quite a handsome lad. Of course, he and Draco engaged in extra credit, but the Gryffindor's marks were quite good and so their interactions weren't that frequent, but always pleasurable. Draco was a fine young wizard. Snape believed he could be a force for change, too, in the future and was grooming him to enter politics.

Snape eyed the bottles, and picked up a healing potion. He wasn't sure if it would bring the wizard around, but it wouldn't hurt him. The wizard sat down on the bed and carefully adjusted Draco so he was propped up on his lap.

Snape went to work.

* * *

Tom Riddle returned to his office after supper. He let himself in, sat down and looked across the room at his reflection in the Mirror of Noisreva. He'd had it moved into his office immediately after the Granger counterparts returned to their proper places. In two days, he'd know if Albus Dumbledore had been successful.

He really didn't give a damn about the students' petition or the teachers' situation. Hopefully, Hogwarts wouldn't be his problem any longer. He had bigger brooms to fly. A world of Purebloods to rule and put in their places . . . if everything went according to plan. He'd be in the position to make the rules, having to answer to no one. No Board of Governors to curtail him. He'd have no enemies. No Bedaub Mules to constantly harass him. The Muggle-Borns here might have a hard time of it, but that would be their problem, not his.

Tom carefully thought out what he would do if he was successful. He'd learned from the other Hermione that his counterpart was absolutely hideous, ruled the Purebloods in his service with an iron wand, and that they were fearful of him. He also learned that Severus Snape served the Dark Lord and was a Potions master rather than a Transfiguration teacher. Rather than glamour himself to look like his malformed counterpart, Tom planned to tell the Purebloods that Snape had come up with an elixir that restored his appearance but left his powers intact. He didn't have the luxury of being able to use Polyjuice potion. Voldemort was completely hairless. But, that explanation should be sufficient as long as Snape went along with it.

Tom would make sure he did.

* * *

The next morning after breakfast, the Headmaster received a visit from one Hermione Granger. The wizard let her in, eyeing the several pages of parchment she held tightly clamped in her hands.

"Please, sit down, Miss Granger," he said to her politely.

The witch took a seat on the edge of the plush armchair in front of the Headmaster's desk.

Although Tom was well aware of why she was there, he went through all the motions.

"How may I help you this morning, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

"Sir, I'd like you to take a look at this petition," Hermione said, trying not to sound nervous as she offered it over his desk. She kept one parchment in her hand. The wizard leafed through the names as Hermione pleaded her case.

"That petition has the signatures of over one hundred and fifty students from every house, all the age of consent, who want the way extra credit is conducted to change. We don't have any choice of whether or not we want to do extra credit, what's done to us, or how many points we receive. We don't get full recognition for our class work, homework or exams. Headmaster, extra credit is supposed to be just that . . . extra. We shouldn't have to participate in it if we don't want to do it. The teachers make it mandatory. They claim it isn't, but they fail students who don't participate. It's not fair and we want it to be more structured."

Tom gazed at her.

"When you say 'more structured,' what do you mean, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

Hermione offered him the other parchment she held. It was Snape's checklist.

"That's Professor Snape's extra credit checklist. It has everything itemized and a strict amount of points that can be earned for each act. A student can pick for his or herself what they are willing to do, and know exactly what it's going to be worth. The way it is now, the teachers decide what will be done, and give whatever points they want. It's different for every student. If they are pleased, they give more, if they aren't they give less. That's not fair to the student, because he or she did what was asked of them and should receive proper points each and every time."

She paused to take a breath. Tom was looking at her, but she couldn't tell if he saw her point or not. Hermione continued.

"Headmaster, we want all the teachers to have to follow a checklist with guaranteed points. It would make things much fairer. And we want options other than sexual, too. Not every teacher appeals to every student. We should have at least one other way to get extra credit in the classes they teach. Extra writing assignments or reports. Maybe special projects . . ."

Hermione faltered for a moment, then said, "That's what we want."

Tom studied her for a moment, then looked down at the petition again, looking appropriately thoughtful. After about five minutes of what appeared to be careful consideration, he said, "Miss Granger, I understand what you are asking for, but I do not interfere with the way teachers run their classes as long as they are following the outlines set forth by the Board of Governors. My staff has a right to conduct classes the way they see fit, as long as there are positive results. Our students have done quite well over the years under this system, Miss Granger. I am here to oversee the school, not micro-manage it. Our teachers must have free reign in their classrooms in order to educate the pupils. If you want change in the way a teacher operates, then you must approach each teacher rather than me. I cannot arbitrarily foist change upon them because it may affect their performance, and I could be held accountable for that. So . . . I'm sorry, Miss Granger. I am going to have to turn down your request for change."

Tom then ripped the petition and checklist in half and handed them back to her.

"You may go," he said with finality.

Hermione stared at him. That was it? He was passing the Galleon? Oh, this sucked. She bit back the angry, bitter words that rose in her throat like bile, remembering what Snape told her . . . not to make threats. She willed herself to calm and rose.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, her voice quavering a bit, and she exited his office.

"Well," Tom said to himself. "That was relatively easy."

His dark eyes turned to the Mirror of Noisreva.

One more day left.

* * *

"He said no," Hermione hissed at Harry and Ron as they left Advanced Arithmancy. "He said his job was to oversee Hogwarts, not micro-manage it, and if we wanted the teachers to change their ways, we'd have to approach each one of them individually."

"Sounds like he's passing the Galleon," Ron said.

"Exactly. He's dodging the hex. Well, I think we are going to have to do that first. Ask each teacher to accept the checklist."

"They're going to say no, Hermione," Harry said, frowning. "It will be a complete waste of time."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she shook her head.

"No, Harry . . . it won't be a waste of time. I need to do as the Headmaster said and ask them directly. When they refuse, then we will have the grounds to boycott. If we boycott first without asking them, then we're the ones who will be in the wrong because we didn't do as the Headmaster said," she told him. "We need to follow protocol."

"Yeah, but you don't have classes with every teacher, Hermione, and to be honest, even though everybody signed that petition, I don't think there's one student who would approach a teacher by himself to ask them to accept the list," Ron said. "I know I don't want to do it."

"That's okay, Ron. I might not have classes with every teacher, but I can still ask them, and do it expediently, too. All at once," Hermione said as Harry and Ron looked at her incredulously.

"How do you plan to do that? Break into the staff room? You know that's off-limits. Filch will have you shackled to the wall with your knickers down faster than you could say 'Grindelwald,'" Ron warned her.

"I'll do it, Ron. You'll see," Hermione replied cryptically, her brown eyes hard.

Harry looked over at Ron and shook his head.

Hermione had better be careful. She had told them what happened with Flitwick and Draco. She might end up having the whole staff after her . . . with the exception of Snape.

* * *

Draco was doing much better, although he was confined to quarters as the spell dissipated. It would take a couple of days. Flitwick had hit him with a powerful Somnolence hex. Properly applied and with the right amount of intent, it placed a person in a deep, coma-like state for several weeks. It was a rather rare spell, and could easily be mistaken for several others, but Lucius provided a very well-informed healer to treat his son and the wizard figured out the hex in a couple of hours. If Hermione had been hit by the spell, she would have slept until it ended.

The treatment required several doses of a specially brewed tea containing lemongrass, cola nut, yerba, and the droppings of a Flutter Fairy, a very rare sprite said to accompany the "Sandman," a very elusive parasitic creature whose main purpose was to put humans to sleep and take a bit of their essence in return. It was quite an expensive concoction. Minerva would have given her right tit to have Flutter Fairy droppings in her stores. Lucius also provided a very shapely caretaker to watch over his son as added incentive for a full recovery.

* * *

By lunchtime, word of the Headmaster's dismissal of the petition had made it around Hogwarts. The students were disheartened. It had seemed so possible that changes would be made. The teachers were openly celebrating, having a bit of wine with their lunch and smiling at the students smugly.

Hermione Granger suddenly stood up and approached the dais, everyone watching and murmuring as she stood in front of the teachers, a parchment in her hands.

"What the fuck is Hermione doing?" Ron hissed at Harry.

"I don't know," Harry replied, turning in his seat so he could better see his friend.

Snape's dark eyes rested on Hermione and the parchment she held. He could see what it was.

"Go, witch," he breathed to himself as she cleared her throat.

The Great Hall fell silent, and all the teachers scowled at Hermione.

"You there! Go sit back down before you earn yourself a caning!" Filch yelled at her.

Tom Riddle didn't say anything. He just looked at Hermione curiously.

"I need to address the teachers," Hermione said bravely. "It will only take a second. I need to talk to all of them and the only time they're all together is when we eat. So, I thought I'd do it now."

"Go ahead, Miss Granger," Tom said, interested.

Hermione held up the checklist.

"This is an extra credit checklist. I know you are all familiar with it, because professor Snape has been trying to institute it for years," the witch said, shaking the parchment for emphasis. "All I want is a show of hands of the teachers that are willing to follow it. Now, who is willing to follow the checklist?"

Hermione watched as only one hand rose in agreement.

Professor Snape's.

Hermione blinked at the teachers, then looked at Tom and said, "Headmaster, you told me this morning that if we wanted the teachers to change the way they handled extra credit, to approach them individually. I've asked all of them in front of the entire school if they would accept using the checklist. Most of them have refused. Have I done what you've asked?"

Tom quirked his lip at her.

"You have indeed, Miss Granger," he replied. "Every teacher has been properly addressed."

Hermione nodded, feeling even braver now.

"And just so the rest of the school understands, you've said your position is to oversee the school and not micro-manage it, and that what goes on in the teachers' classes is basically the responsibility of the teachers themselves and you cannot interfere."

"You are correct, Miss Granger. Unless school rules as instituted by the Board of Governors are being blatantly broken by either staff or students, I cannot and will not interfere," Tom said, now even more curious as to what the witch had up her sleeve. This was certainly entertaining.

"Very well," Hermione said, her eyes scanning the teachers, "because most of you have refused to accept this checklist and treat us fairly, we have no choice but to boycott extra credit until you accept our terms. From this point on, only teachers who have agreed to not treat extra credit as mandatory and who follow the checklist will be approached for it."

Hermione turned to the students as angry cries of negation rose from the teachers.

"Are we agreed?" she cried to the students, who at first didn't respond. Suddenly, Neville Longbottom rose to his feet.

"We are agreed!" he yelled back at Hermione.

Luna Lovegood rose from the Hufflepuff table. .

"We are agreed, Hermione," she said softly, her eyes shining as she looked at the witch.

"Agreed!" cried several Gryffindor voices.

"Agreed!" shouted the entire table of Ravenclaw.

Then the Great Hall went wild, all the students standing up, even those not yet the age of consent, all yelling "Agreed!" pumping their fists and stamping their feet, drowning out the protesting teachers.

The din went on for several minutes, Filch snarling at everyone to shut up and take their seats or he'd cane each and every one of them. He was completely ignored.

Tom watched the mayhem with delight, highly entertained. They weren't rebelling against him after all. Hermione's questions had clearly distanced him from the issue. The teachers were on their own. Actually, the Headmaster was rather glad the students were showing some chutzpah. They were always so blasted obedient and cowed during meals. His dark eyes fell on Hermione, who was facing away from the dais, thrusting her fist in the air and shouting with the rest of the students. She was magnificent. What a fire starter.

Hermione gestured for the students to take their seats again, then turned and looked up at the now silent teachers with narrowed brown eyes, a twisted, rather evil smile on her lips.

"I think we're all agreed," she said to them, arching an eyebrow meaningfully before returning to her seat.

"Hermione, you're brilliant," Ron breathed at her.

Hermione looked up at Snape, who nodded at her soberly, his dark eyes full of approval.

"So I've been told," she said softly.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	37. New Rules and a Parting of the Ways

**Chapter 38 New Rules and a Parting of the Ways**

The boycott went into effect immediately, with students, feeling buoyed and ecstatic by their new sense of solidarity, canceling their appointments with the staff and not rescheduling them. Flitwick, still covered with the healing remnants of his boils, frowned up at Luna, who stood before his desk quietly, her blue eyes undisturbed at his obvious fury.

"And when do you plan to reschedule, Miss Lovegood?" he said to her sharply.

"I'm not sure I ever will, Professor," she replied softly, returning to her seat as the next student stepped up.

Ron gleefully informed Professor Sprout he wouldn't be showing up for her weekly buggering. The witch was furious.

"Count on a big, fat T for Troll, Mr. Weasley," she snapped at him as he walked away.

"At least I won't be bouncing off your big, fat arse," he muttered under his breath as he returned to his fellow Slytherins, Hermione grinning at him.

The excited students poured into Transfiguration class, Slytherins and Gryffindors talking to each other without the usual insults passing between them. They weren't buddies, but they weren't being rude to each other, which was an amazing change.

Professor Snape stood up and asked them all to be seated. They did so, looking at him expectantly. He walked around his desk and leaned back against it.

"In lieu of today's events, the on-going boycott and in recognition of your demands, I've made some changes in the way extra credit in this class will work," he said. "I'd like to take a moment or two to explain them before we begin class."

The students continued to look at him as he strode to the back of the class and pointed to a folder on the door with a number of parchments sticking out of it.

"These are extra credit sheets. Originally, a student made an appointment with me, came to my office, selected what act or acts they wanted to engage in, then we proceeded from there. I realize now, that was a bit constricting. Now students can take a list, take them to their dorms and fill them out at leisure, taking their time to go over them and decide what they wish to do. It also gives a better option for those of you who wish to do joint extra credit with another student. When you're ready, you can hand in the extra credit list and make your appointment then."

Murmurs of approval rose from the Gryffindors, while the Slytherin didn't respond, but looked extremely interested. Snape turned to his desk, picked up several parchments and passed them out, returning to his position at the front of the class.

Hermione studied the paper. It was the extra credit list, but certain acts had lines through them and the check boxes blacked out. The points of the remaining acts were also crossed out, and higher ones written in. She looked up at the professor, a bit perplexed.

"This is the extra credit list that will be in force during the boycott. As you can see, I've removed a number of acts from the list. Those are as follows, sexual intercourse, anal intercourse, full fellatio and any other act that requires me to ejaculate. I've done this because it is quite possible that as the only teacher that follows the checklist, I may have an increased extra credit workload. Let's face it . . . I'm only one wizard. I cannot possible interact with every age of consent student at Hogwarts to that degree. I will dry out and die of exhaustion."

This comment was met with chuckles.

"Since I've removed the higher point acts, I've increased the point gain of the other acts to compensate. As I said, this is only temporary. In addition . . ."

Here, Snape arched an eyebrow at the Slytherins.

"I have also instituted a 'cap' on the amount of extra credit a student can earn in a term. This is because I feel there is a distinct possibility that a few students might be tempted to 'manipulate' the system and garner a large enough cache of extra points, that they would be able to sail through my class with a minimum of effort the rest of the year. That's not about to happen."

A few Slytherins smirked at this.

"Snape's sharp," Ron whispered to Harry, who was studying the wizard.

"Another change I'm instituting is that those students who have marks high enough not to need extra credit work, will not automatically qualify for it," Snape continued, scanning the class with a slight smile. "In that case, it will be my choice rather or not to issue an appointment. Turnabout is fair play."

Hermione smiled at this. She had never considered it, but teachers didn't have much choice as to who they engaged either. She didn't know if professor Snape felt this way, but if he did, he'd found an out of sorts, as long as the students kept their grades up.

"And finally," the wizard continued, "there have been checkboxes added for written extra credit and special projects for those of you who would like an option other than engaging me as a means to earn extra points. I imagine the Slytherins will be pleased with that option and I will be up to my neck in extra parchments to mark."

The Slytherins didn't look as excited about that as he thought they would.

Neville raised his hand hesitatingly.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape said, addressing him.

"Um, Professor Snape . . . I have a question about the role-playing option. Do you have like . . . costumes or something?"

Snape smiled.

"No, Mr. Longbottom, I do not. I have a small Room of Requirement that provides whatever setting and clothing, or lack of it thereof that will be needed for role-playing."

Once again, murmurs arose from the students. Snape had his own ROR? How cool was that? The ROR at Hogwarts was off-limits to students and could only be used by special dispensation. Of course, if they were to access the room, most likely it would be used for role-playing anyway.

Another hand went up. This time it was Ginny Weasley.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?" Snape said.

"What does the Voyeurism choice entail?" she inquired.

"Exactly what it states. I . . . watch and don't touch," the wizard replied. "Although some students change their minds during that particular act. It is one of the few acts that I allow to be altered while in process. But generally, the extra credit only entails what is on the list. If a student wishes to increase the points, they have to make another appointment. So, in order to make the best of your time, consider what you wish to do carefully."

Ginny nodded, her brown eyes falling on the credit list with more than a little interest.

"Are there any more questions?" Snape asked the class.

Several more hands went up, all Slytherin, as the Gryffindors looked on with surprise.

Class got started very late that day, and when the students departed, Snape saw not a single extra credit list remained in the folder. He didn't take make any appointments with students that day, and cancelled those he had, stating he would start accepting extra credit appointments tomorrow. He wanted the students to think about it, rather than rush in.

He felt better than he had in years. All thanks to one angry young witch with the nerve to go after what she wanted. Hermione Granger was extraordinary.

"I'd better start taking daily doses of Stamina potion," Snape said to himself as he gathered together a few parchments. "I have a feeling I'm going to be extremely busy."

* * *

After warning his students to do their work, Snape billowed out of his classroom to his lab, where the Confundus potion was brewing. He quickly lifted the top of the cauldron and examined its progress. Yes, it was the thick, black color it was supposed to be. He deftly added the next set of ingredients, sprinkling them lightly on top of the simmering liquid and carefully adjusting the heat. He recovered the cauldron and returned to class, walking silently, hoping to find a student doing something untoward.

He didn't. They were all seated and reading as they were supposed to be.

They knew better.

Scowling, the Potions master sat down at his desk and pulled a stack of parchments toward him. Essays. Blech. Always horrible reading.

Well, if things went well, this would be his last year of reading the work of dunderheads. He'd be striking out on his own. Snape had always wanted his own apothecary shop. One that provided the freshest, rarest ingredients and most potent potions imaginable, with the highest price tags and by appointment only.

He intended to make Albus invest in the shop, since Snape himself had very little money. Yet, he wanted more than the thanks of a grateful wizarding world if he pulled this off. It meant nothing to him coming from a world that despised him for most of his life.

Hard, cold galleons would do just fine.

"Um, Professor Snape . . . I'm done," a voice said, breaking through his daydream. Scowling, Snape looked up at Hermione Granger.

"Just put it on the desk," he snapped in irritation.

Hermione slowly did as he asked, then sat down again, folding her hands and watching him as he went back to the parchments. He hadn't seemed very focused on them before. She wondered when he'd come for her. Tomorrow was the seventh day . . . the day when the mystery surrounding Tom Riddle would be revealed. And the day after . . .

Hermione paled slightly.

The day after could be her last day on earth.

* * *

"Can't I go with you, Masssssster?" Nagini hissed as she rested on Voldemort's shoulders as he sat on his throne, the wizard stroking her flat head idly with one finger."

"I don't believe so, Nagini," he responded in Parseltongue.

Nagini adjusted herself so her head was directly in front of the wizard's snake-like countenance, her cold eyes meeting his.

"I don't undersssstand. You are abandoning me, Massssster?" she hissed rather angrily. "I have held your ssssssoul for agessss. Isss thisss my thank you?"

"Nagini, I am tired of this world, this battle. Of being seen as a monster when all I wish is to rule," the despot said. "This is an opportunity for me to be in a better position. I will not pass on it for you or anyone."

Nagini hovered quietly for a moment, then hissed, "Ssssso be it, Masssster!"

Then, she looped her coils around his neck and began to choke him.

"I will not be left behind," the snake hissed.

Voldemort's eyes bugged out of his head, redder because of the veins that burst in his retinas as he clutched at the snakes coils, dropping his wand in the process. Nagini looped more coils around his body, tightening them as he breathed out, not allowing the wizard to draw in more air.

"Die, Massssster! Die!" the snake hissed, holding tight, her cold eyes still cold as she felt him relax and fall still. She remained wrapped around him for several minutes. No one was on the premises . . . no one had witnessed his murder.

The snake slowly uncoiled and made her way down his limp body, to the small raised dais and down to the floor. She slithered over to one of the bonfires and curled around it for warmth. No one would suspect her.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of Gringotts Bank, a low rumble sounded. The blind dragon guarding the area lifted its head, blowing a waft of smoke, its scaly ears pricking forward.

Within a vault ornately decorated with the letter "B," a cup tumbled from the top of a stack of coins down to the floor. The cup was made of gold, with two finely wrought handles on either side and a badger engraved on its surface.

The cup began to tremble, and the vibrations made the coins and other valuable objects crash to the floor, shaking the very foundations of the structure with the force of the magic being released.

On the upper floors, bank customers and goblins alike were fleeing the building. Griphook, the head goblin stared at the shaking bank, unable to fathom what was happening.

Below ground, the cup began to glow with a dark light, which flooded the vault, then burst apart, sparks flying. The building stopped shaking.

"It must have been an earthquake," Griphook said to a nearby goblin.

"Must have been," the goblin agreed as they hurried back inside the building.

* * *

Nagini slept, coiled around the bonfire, feeling no remorse at killing her master. He was going to abandon her after her years of faithful service. He no longer needed her venom to survive. His return at the graveyard had strengthened him, the blood of his enemy now running through his veins and fueling him. She had been little more than a pet since his return. And Voldemort had been about to cast her aside as if she meant nothing.

Well, he took a journey all right. One he would never return from.

Nagini was a true snake, and as one . . . deaf as a rock. The only reason she could hear her master speak was because he was a Parselmouth and magic was involved. So, she didn't hear the cough from the throne and the indrawn breath, or the stealthy steps easing down the stone dais, or the pause as an elegant, scaly hand quietly picked up the thirteen and a half inch wand made of yew from where it had fallen.

Nor did she hear the quiet, determined approach, or see the twisted facial expression of her resurrected master as he cast his spell. But she did feel the burning pain of it as Voldemort bisected her with the Sectumsempra hex, the snake's divided body writhing and contorting as the dark wizard looked down on his traitorous pet.

"Yes, Nagini, you held a fragment of my soul, but you should have realized that you weren't the only vessel," he hissed at her as blood and gore covered the stone floor. "I never dreamed you had this in you, Nagini, you treacherous reptile. You're worse than an abandoned lover."

He watched dispassionately as his familiar's divided parts thrashed and rolled around the throne room, the latter part falling still first as the upper part continued, the snakes mouth gaping horrendously as life slowly fell away. Finally, she lay on her back, her mouth working, the limber bones of her spine exposed, surrounded by bloody strips of flesh. Voldemort walked to her head and looked down at her.

All Nagini could see was her master's upside-down feet and the hem of his scarlet robes. She tried weakly to strike at them, to send her last bit of venom into his veins, but all she could do was extend her fangs weakly.

"What a terrible end to a long friendship," Voldemort said to the dying snake in Parseltongue as he pointed his wand at her.

"Goodbye, Nagini. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Nagini was bathed in the dread green light for several moments before it ended . . . with her life.

Voldemort studied her for a moment before kicking the snake's upper body into the closest bonfire, and setting her other half ablaze.

"Well," he said to himself as he returned to his throne, the remains of Nagini smoldering behind him, "that takes care of the familiar problem."

* * *

A/N: Ah, we return to our more familiar world. A lot going on. Bad Nagini, but a good try. Damn Horcruxes. Good thing Voldemort revived however, otherwise Hermione would have been in a bad way. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	38. Crunch Time

**Chapter 39 Crunch Time**

The next day found Albus Dumbledore sitting at his desk in his office, his blue eyes worried as he considered what was supposed to transpire this evening at precisely six o'clock. His Potions master and a student under his protection were risking everything on a hope. And if they were successful, there was yet another who would be in danger.

Albus had never shared his belief with anyone, although he had suspected it years ago. The Horcruxes Voldemort had created should have been tracked down and destroyed years ago, but Albus didn't divulge their existence, not even after Harry had faced the "memory" of Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't want to enhance the sense of hopelessness in those fighting against the wizard. How demoralizing would it be to find out that the monster one hoped to topple . . . couldn't die? And how much more terrible would it be for people to find out that the young wizard they had tried so hard to protect from this monster, would have to die before he did?

Albus took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, his heart heavy with guilt. Yes, he had been deceptive . . . but he had to be. There had to be some illusion of hope to keep everyone mobilized, to keep everyone fighting.

And poor Severus. He had no idea the boy he was suffering so much for was little more than a lamb for the slaughter, that he was only keeping him alive until it was the "proper time" for him to die. The Potions master had no idea that every stripe he received from the lash, and every Crucio that struck him from the tip of Voldemort's wand, was only a delay of the inevitable at his expense.

Albus put his glasses back on, and Fawkes trilled sadly behind him.

"Oh, I know, Fawkes . . . I know. So much deception on my part," the old wizard sighed. "I've withheld so much from those around me. But what was I to do?"

Fawkes trilled again, a darker note filling the office.

"Yes, I suppose I could have been honest, Fawkes, but honesty can be the enemy of hope," he said sadly.

Fawkes let out a sharp, unsympathetic cry.

"I'm not rationalizing," Albus said half-heartedly, "and besides, that's neither here nor there, Fawkes. What I must focus on now, is young Harry. I have no idea how this will affect him, but . . . I must segregate him from the others . . . and not tell him why. He may well go to his death not knowing his destiny. I haven't the heart to tell him."

A mournful twitter rose from the phoenix, and Albus felt sadness curl over him like a dark cloud obscuring all light.

But sacrifices had to be made for the Greater Good.

* * *

Snape let his Potions class out an hour early, surprising them, but giving them a long homework assignment to dampen their joy. He held Hermione back as the rest of the students departed, waiting for the classroom to clear.

"Be here at exactly five o'clock. Tell no one you're meeting with me," the wizard told her shortly, dismissing her.

Hermione nodded.

This was it.

After the witch departed, Snape made his way to the third floor and entered the room which held the mirror of Erised. He had a large piece of soft leather with him. He drew his wand and reduced the mirror to pocket-sized, wrapped it carefully in the cloth and put it in his pocket. He left the room and returned to his office.

Hermione told Ron and Harry to go on to supper without her. She said she had some studying to catch up on, and the two wizards reluctantly left her. She then Disillusioned herself and made her way down to the dungeons, students asking, "who are you?" when she inadvertently made contact with them and they saw her shimmer.

She had to dodge a number of "Finite Incantatum" spells shot at her in hopes of revealing who she was. But no one pursued her as she slipped into the dungeon corridor, keeping close to the damp walls and shadows. Luckily only a couple of Slytherins passed her without noticing, and she made her way to Snape's office, knocking lightly.

The door opened immediately, and the pale wizard looked down at her shimmer before stepping aside and letting her in. She removed the spell.

"Follow me, Miss Granger," Snape ordered, billowing down the short corridor that opened on his classroom, past it and his potions stores and into his private lab. On a counter stood a glass full of smoking liquid. Snape walked over to it, followed by Hermione.

"This is the Confundus Potion," Snape told her, his dark eyes resting on her face as Hermione stared at the dirty gray smoke rising from the glass.

"It looks terrible. I wouldn't willingly drink it," she said in a small voice.

"Willing or unwilling, you must drink it if you want to live, Miss Granger," Snape said softly, understanding her hesitance but brooking no opposition. "You have to trust me."

Hermione looked up into his pale face for a moment, then picked up the glass. Without a word, she drank down the contents, Snape watching her with glinting eyes. She set the glass back down and looked up at him.

"Are you sure you brewed the potion correctly, Professor? I feel just fi . . ."

Suddenly Hermione stopped speaking and looked at the professor drunkenly, swaying in place and looking completely lost.

"It's been brewed properly, Miss Granger," he purred back at her.

Hermione stared at Snape rather strangely, then suddenly smiled.

"Kiss me!" she said with a giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck and trying to pull his lips against hers. "I want more points!"

Oh dear gods. She thought she was in the other universe and that he was that other Snape. The Potions master turned his head so she couldn't reach his lips and pried her arms from around her neck.

"I am the Potions master, Miss Granger . . . not your substitute," he snapped at her, but Hermione was once again swaying in place, looking confused and not saying anything.

Snape straightened his robes a bit fitfully. In another situation, Miss Granger's little lapse could have been quite interesting, but not now. He hoped that had been just a little glitch in the potion as it took effect. Hermione seemed fine now. Very confused and docile. Just as she should be.

He caught her hand.

"Come along, Miss Granger," he said, heading for his private rooms, pulling the witch behind him. Once there, he would change into his Death Eater robes and contact the Dark Lord so he could issue his summons.

* * *

Voldemort sat alone in his throne room. He had disposed of Nagini's scorched remains, and spent much of his time brooding over the Horcruxes he'd created. He knew he had released two of them, one with the death of Nagini and one to resurrect him. His dairy had been destroyed as well, so that was another Horcrux down. He wasn't sure which item that contained his current spark had been used, but he still had three left.

Would they carry over with him? He doubted it, and really wasn't concerned about it. He could always create more Horcruxes in his new environs. Either the Horcruxes would dissipate, remained entombed where they were or be triggered when his life force left this world. But there would be no half-life to attach to and revive. He would no longer exist here.

If there were any magical repercussions, he'd deal with them as they arose. What was important right now was that he see his counterpart.

Suddenly, he felt the Potions master calling him. Excitedly, the Dark Lord pulled up his sleeve and touched his mark with the tip of his wand, opening the way for his servant.

Suddenly, Snape appeared, holding Hermione tightly by her arm. The dazed witch looked at Voldemort with no comprehension.

"What is this, Severus?" Voldemort demanded.

"Hermione Granger, my Lord. I finally managed to take her," the wizard replied.

Voldemort scowled.

"I don't care about her! What about the mirror?" he snapped furiously, training his wand on Severus.

Snape drew the mirror out of his pocket, wrapped in the soft leather cloth.

"It is here, my Lord," he said, waving the rectangular package at him. Voldemort pocketed his wand as he stared at the wrapped mirror greedily, his red eyes flashing.

"Don't waste time, Severus. Resize it and stand it against the wall," Voldemort hissed at him, "and then, clear my chambers. Go into one of the other rooms and stay there. Take the witch with you. You can have her as a reward for your service. Now, hurry."

Snape sighed inwardly with relief. He had judged Voldemort correctly, knowing he would have no interest in Hermione whatsoever when the Mirror of Erised was before him. Snape resized the mirror and stood it up. Voldemort quickly descended the throne, waving his arm at Snape impatiently.

"Get out! Get out!" he hissed as he approached the mirror.

"Come along, Miss Granger," Snape said, pulling Hermione toward one of the many doors that encircled the throne room. He opened one and walked through, pulling Hermione behind him.

Voldemort stood in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection.

"Mirror of Erised," he hissed, "show me what I most desire."

* * *

Harry and Ron were almost at the Great Hall when Albus Dumbledore swept in front of them, dressed in royal purple robes with yellow stars on them. Both Gryffindors blinked at the wizard, who gave them a disarming smile.

"Ah, Mr. Potter . . . Mr. Weasley, a good evening to you both," he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Hi, Headmaster," both wizards replied.

"Harry, I wonder if you might accompany me to the infirmary," Albus said to the Boy Who Lived.

"The infirmary? Why?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"You'll find out once we get there," Albus replied.

Ron nudged Harry with his shoulder, raising his eyebrows at him.

"Can Ron come?" he asked.

"I'm sorry. This matter only concerns you, Harry," the Headmaster replied.

Ron frowned. He was always being left out.

"It's all right, Ron. I'll be back in a little while," he told his friend.

Ron watched as Dumbledore and Harry headed up the marble stairs.

"I'm always the last to know what's going on," Ron grumbled, entering the Great Hall in a temper.

* * *

Tom Riddle waved away the smoke and ash that swirled around his office. It stunk of fire and brimstone, Fawkes' last offering before he abandoned his master in a burst of flame, rather than have him abandon him first. Tom explained the situation to the phoenix and asked him to leave the office so he would be alone. Fawkes left all right. For good. There was no reason to stay.

The wizard pulled out his wand and Scourgified his surroundings. His eyes shifted to the clock on the wall. Two minutes to six.

He had placed a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door, complete with skull and crossbones, then locked and warded it so he wouldn't be disturbed. He walked toward the Mirror of Noisreva, staring at his reflection.

"Mirror of Noisreva, show me what I least desire," he breathed.

He stared at the reflection as the clock struck six, and the surface of the glass began to shimmer and undulate, his reflection beginning to change, his robes reddening and his features becoming distorted. Tom stared at the forming image with growing horror as his counterpart shimmered into view for a moment . . . then suddenly disappeared.

"No!' Tom cried in frustration.

* * *

"Er . . . excuse me, my Lord," Peter Pettigrew ventured, walking out of one of the doors behind Voldemort. He was the only one on the premises besides Hermione and Snape, because he was the Dark Lord's personal servant. He was carrying several dead rats by the tails.

"Nagini isn't in her quarters and it's her feeding ti . . ."

"Get out of here, you bloody idiot!" Voldemort roared at him, firing a blast from his wand toward the startled wizard. He didn't aim to hit him, however, just to make him flee the throne room.

Peter let out a terrified howl and shot back through the door as fast as his fat little legs could carry him. Voldemort turned back toward the mirror.

"Reveal yourself," he hissed, then stared at the image that formed there. A tall, handsome wizard, with dark eyes, wavy hair and a regal bearing. Him, as he would have been if he hadn't deformed himself with magic. Voldemort stared at the image staring back at him, its face contorted with revulsion.

"Dear gods," Tom Riddle thought, looking on the creature he had become in the alternate world. "The Purebloods actually follow that? They're more pitiful than I ever imagined."

Voldemort's red eyes shifted to the backdrop behind his counterpart. The Headmaster's office of Hogwarts. It was true, all true. He stepped closer to the mirror and watched as his counterpart wavered as if he wanted to step back, but also cautiously moved closer.

Tom could see the sparse throne room behind Voldemort, the burning bonfires, and the throne of bones resting on the dais. Shit, he was going to have to do some major renovations. Was his counterpart into Feng Shui? But, then again, the throne room was very much like the image he received from Minerva's mind concerning Bedaub Mules' domain. Besides, he wasn't interested in the surroundings, but the power that came with them. He'd deal with it.

Both sets of eyes turned covetous, red locking to black, both faces taking on a sinister mien. Slowly, the wizards raised their hands at the same time and slowly . . . oh so slowly . . . pressed them against the glass so the palms touched . . .

Connecting.

* * *

Harry struggled angrily in the restraints Albus had locked him into after hitting him with a Petrificus Totalus spell and placing him on a cot, as a very distressed-looking Madam Pomfrey flitted around them.

"Albus, I must protest!" the medi-witch cried as she watched him add manacles to the cot and lock them to Harry's ankles and wrists. He then removed Harry's wand from his pocket and deposited it into his own. "Why are you doing this?"

"It is to protect him, Poppy, believe me. Something of great portent is occurring that could affect him greatly. I would never to anything to purposely harm the boy, you must believe that. Now, I must ask you to leave, my dear. I need to put a containment spell around us, just in case things go awry. I can protect the castle and others from damage this way," Albus said to her softly.

"A containment spell, Albus? I don't understand . . . what is going on here?" Poppy demanded.

"Poppy, I don't have time to explain to you. Now, I'm ordering you to leave us at once!" Albus thundered at her.

Poppy was forced to comply and backed out of the area, pulling the black privacy curtain together behind them and standing outside nervously wringing her hands.

Albus focused all of his skill and intent, then waved his wand in a circular motion over his head, Harry's green eyes fixed on him with a mixture of anger, wonder and curiosity. He had heard everything the Headmaster had said to Poppy.

A disc of light appeared above them, then flowed downward, forming a shimmering dome around the area, sinking into the stone floor. They were encased in a kind of magical bubble, one that could withstand and contain great bursts of power.

Albus pulled up a chair, sat down in it and removed the binding spell from Harry.

"What is this? Why do you have me shackled down? What's going on?" Harry cried furiously.

"I'm not sure, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "but believe me when I say this is for your own good, my boy and to protect those around you. I am here with you, however, and will stay with you until the situation is resolved one way or another. If you survive, I will explain everything to you. If you don't, I will most likely go with you into the next adventure."

Harry's eyes went wide.

"If I survive? What do you mean if I survive? What next adventure? What's going on?" he demanded again, struggling fitfully. "Tell me what's going on, Headmaster! Why are you doing this to me?"

Dumbledore's eyes glistened.

"Harry, there's something I should have told you long ago . . ." the wizard began, "something about the link you have with Voldemort . . . you see . . ."

Suddenly Harry let out a horrible scream, his eyes rolling up into his head and his body arching upward in the restraints, his muscles contracting as unbearable pain tore through him. He felt as if he'd been set ablaze.

"Harry!" Dumbledore cried, jumping up from his seat and hovering over the boy, unable to do anything but watch his suffering. Damn, he'd been right. There would be repercussions.

Outside the dome, Poppy heard Harry's anguished cry and ran forward, beating on the containment dome with her fists.

"What's going on in there? Albus! You let me in! You let me in right now, damn it!"

Another scream sounded, and another. It sounded as if the boy were being tortured.

"Let me in, Albus!" Poppy cried, her pounding weakening and tears streaming down her face as Harry continued to howl.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	39. The Exchange

**Chapter 40 The Exchange**

A low rumble ran through the castle, then a powerful shudder followed, strong enough to shake the food and drink being brought to the mouths of the staff and students eating supper in the Great Hall. Screams and yells arose.

"What is that?" Minerva cried, rising. "Everyone! Under the tables! Quickly!"

The frightened students and staff did as the professor ordered, diving under the banquet tables and curling up tight, covering their heads with their arms as they were taught to do during drills.

Albus watched helplessly as Harry writhed, screaming as the magic within him built up, energy crackling around his body like whirling lightning as the Horcrux within him sought to free itself. A great pressure could be felt within the shuddering dome. Outside, Poppy lay on the floor, covering her head and screaming as rumble after rumble shook the very foundations of Hogwarts.

"Harry!" Dumbledore cried, struggling to stay on his feet, watching the energy build-up.

"It's too much!" the old wizard thought as an ominous black light began to radiate from Harry's body. Suddenly, Albus Dumbledore flung himself on top of Harry, grasping his wrists and holding on to him, grounding the suffering, screaming wizard.

"I'm with you, Harry!" Dumbledore cried, and then shuddered and let out a cry of agony as the powerful force within Harry transferred, the wizard serving as a conduit and drawing it away from his charge, through his body, through his very organs and bones. The Headmaster was blown off of Harry and flew through the air, robes billowing before he collided painfully with the dome as the power released and Voldemort's Horcrux was freed. He slid down the wall, crumpled and unconscious as the shaking and rumbling ceased.

Both wizards lay there, silent and still as corpses as the dome dissipated.

As soon as she could gain her bearings, Poppy got to her feet, pulled back the privacy curtain and ran inside. She stopped when she saw the unmoving body of Dumbledore on the floor and Harry still manacled to the cot.

"Oh, no," she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand for an instant, then running forward to check the vitals of both fallen wizards.

* * *

In the Room of Requirement, at the same time Harry was strapped down to the cot, a vast area filled with broken, forgotten and lost items had appeared. An old, discolored tiara suddenly tumbled from a broken closet to the floor and began to shudder, adding to the rumbling that coursed through the castle, followed by powerful quaking, adding to the strength of the phenomenon. It, too, issued a black light before exploding, its contents expelled.

At the Ministry of Magic, Delores Umbridge ran screaming from her office just as she was preparing to leave the premises. A file cabinet had shuddered loose from the wall, then the entire room shook. The fat, toad-like witch burst from the office and fled as did the scant few employees that were still working after hours, the building shaking around them as if it would cave in. The file cabinet, which contained a locket given to Umbridge as a bribe when Mundungus Fletcher was discovered selling stolen objects, blew apart, shrapnel sticking in the stone walls from the force of the blast.

In the remains of a small shack, located in Little Hangleton and hidden among many weeds and brush, the floorboards shuddered, rumbling sounding before the scant foundations of the ruin were shaken loose, the weak walls falling in and the floorboards bursting apart, a golden box and the ring beneath them, exploding. A small black stone flew from the midst of the blast, landing amid a pile of rubble and slipping through the gaps.

* * *

Eyes closed, both Tom Riddle and Voldemort felt themselves drawn into, then through each other, feeling the sensation of being pulled through a curtain of warm water as powerful magic whirled around them. Their positions reversed and both fell still, slowly opening their eyes and gazing at each other through the stilling glass of the mirror.

Voldemort's head swiveled, and he looked upon the former office of Tom Riddle.

"Success!" he hissed, drawing his wand and turning back to face his counterpart, a look of victory on his face.

"Welcome to my world, Tom Riddle. As far as I'm concerned . . . you can rot there!" Voldemort snarled, backing up and blasting the mirror to splinters, noting that his counterpart also had his wand drawn just before casting the spell.

So, they were of like minds, eh? Maybe his counterpart would find the position more rewarding than he did.

"Goodbye, Hogwarts," Tom Riddle breathed, casting the spell and destroying the Mirror of Erised. No one would ever pass through it again.

Snape heard the blast, and pulling Hermione along behind him, quickly entered the throne room, his black eyes resting on the tall, slender wizard brushing dust off his black robes. The man looked up at him, and Snape faltered. Yes, he was the spitting image of Tom Riddle, what he would have looked like if he hadn't disfigured himself.

"Ah, Professor Snape, I presume," Tom said with a smile. Then his black eyes shifted to Hermione, who was standing beside him listlessly, her arm looped through his.

"It appears you've developed a taste for Grangers," Tom observed. "Now, I need to summon my followers, Snape. I am going to tell them you developed an elixir that restored my body. You will, of course, back me up."

"Before I agree to anything, remove the spell from Miss Granger," Snape demanded, his eyes hard.

Tom's eyes shifted to Hermione.

"Oh, that. Yes. Yes, of course, Severus. I always intended to keep my part of the bargain."

Snape stepped away from Hermione and watched as Tom made an intricate motion with his wand, then flicked it at Hermione, who shuddered in place for a moment, then crumpled, the Potions master catching her before she hit the floor.

"It's done," Tom said, "now, on to more important matters, such as summoning the Purebloods. I must establish a few new . . ."

Snape wasn't listening as he pulled a small flask from his pocket, opened it and fed it to the nearly unconscious witch, clearing her head immediately.

"What? Professor?" Hermione said dazedly as he helped her to her feet. Hermione stood up and looked around the throne room.

"Where are we?" she asked, then her eyes fell on Tom, who looked back at her with a smirk.

"That's . . . that's Tom Riddle! From the other universe!" she gasped, pointing a finger at the wizard as if Snape couldn't see him.

Tom bowed slightly.

"We meet again, Miss Granger. As you can see, I've had a change of venue. Say hello to the new Dark Lord," he told the witch.

"What?" Hermione said, looking at Snape incredulously. "He's what?"

"He believes he's the new Dark Lord," Snape repeated, still holding on to Hermione's arm. "However, I doubt simply claiming the position will make it so."

Tom scowled at Snape blackly.

"Of course it will make it so. Purebloods are like sheep, blindly following whatever shepherd is at the head of the flock. They will have no reason to challenge me, and I imagine they will prefer my 'new look.'"

Snape curled his lip at him.

"I am no Pureblood, nor am I a sheep," Snape said softly, pushing Hermione away from him.

Tom stared at him, then broke out in laughter.

"Surely, you don't mean to challenge me, Snape! It would be better for you if you just agreed to play along. I am aware of the scars of your service. Under me, you will no longer be striped. My purpose is aligned with that of your Dumbledore, to put Muggle-Borns in a place of authority," he said to the wizard.

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"That isn't Dumbledore's objective at all. He wants a peaceful society, where everyone is respected and treated as equals," she snapped at the wizard.

Tom studied Hermione, a bit angered at her outburst. But he put on a lofty expression.

"Miss Granger, in order for a society to work there has to be a class system. Those on top and those below. As a Muggle-Born, I think you should welcome this change in status quo. I understand Muggle-Borns in this world are treated like dirt by Purebloods."

"Not by all of them, only some. The rich ones, with long pedigrees," she shot back at him.

Tom laughed unpleasantly.

"Pedigrees? You have to be joking, Miss Granger. All Purebloods are the product of magical incest, the lowest of the low rungs on the magical ladder. That is the first truth that must be ingrained in them."

"I don't think you're going to find it that easy to do," Hermione said, frowning at him.

"With Dumbledore's help . . . I'll . . ."

Suddenly, the wizard stopped speaking.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

Both Snape and Hermione looked around the throne room. There was a low hum rising, and a feeling of magic growing around them.

"What is that?" Tom demanded, raising his wand.

Snape grabbed Hermione and backed away from Tom as the throne room began to shudder a bit. A door cracked open and Peter Pettigrew peeked out, his mouth dropping open at the sight of Tom Riddle.

"My word," the wizard breathed, then staggered as the entire stronghold shook.

"What is going on? Are we under attack?" Tom cried at Snape over the rumbling.

Snape didn't answer Tom as he cast a protective shield around himself and Hermione.

Suddenly, four shining orbs passed through the ceiling of the stronghold and floated above the wizards and witch standing below. They hovered there, glowing, as Tom looked up at them.

"What are those lights?" he cried.

Slowly, the Horcruxes drifted down, surrounding the wizard, attracted, but . . . somehow not attracted. They were drawn to the half-life of their master, and recognized Tom Riddle as the soul they were part of because he was part of the total existence of "Tom Riddle." For all intents and purposes, the same man, but from a world of differing circumstances. This Tom Riddle had never fragmented his soul. He wasn't afraid of death and understood the human condition, even empathized with it, unlike his counterpart Voldemort. But he did share the despot's desire for power.

"What are these things?" Tom demanded again as one of the Horcruxes floated forward.

It stopped in front of him, hovering at eye level, the wizard staring into its glowing light.

"It . . . it wants to get inside me," he breathed. "No . . . you can't."

The Horcrux hovered for another moment, then flashed forward, passing through the wizard's forehead and into his skull, trying to settle in the pituitary gland or the area better known to mystics as the "Seat of the Soul."

Unfortunately for Tom, it was already occupied.

"Arrrgh!" the wizard cried, dropping his wand and clasping his hand to his head, whirling in agony as it felt as if his skull would burst open.

His scream seemed to trigger the other Horcruxes and they all flew forward, seeking entrance into an already living body, fighting for position, appearing and disappearing as they forced each other in and out, Tom screaming, running about, crashing into walls and flailing at the Horcruxes as they pursued him like glowing hornets, now attempting to enter his body any way they could, the wizard crying for help as Snape and Hermione watched.

Hermione was curled against Snape in horror as she watched the magical attack. Snape showed no reaction at all, the contorting wizard's form reflected in his black eyes as he tried to escape the magic his counterpart had left behind. Horcruxes used properly, were life-giving, but in this case . . . they were deadly.

Tom fell to the floor, encased in whirling light now as the Horcruxes fought for entry, pushing their power into his body as the wizard buckled and seizured, spittle and foam flowing from his mouth, blood from his nose, his limbs twisted and hands clawed as he weakly continued to fight. Suddenly, all the Horcruxes disappeared inside the wizard. He fell still.

"Is . . . is it over?" Hermione breathed, staring at the still wizard. Suddenly, light burst from Tom's eyes, nose, mouth and ears, and the humming they heard before began again, both Snape and Hermione covering their ears as it grew louder and stronger. Tom's body began to quiver, then bubble as if changing under Polyjuice. Magic swelled again.

"Get down!" Snape hissed, pulling Hermione into him and crouching, throwing the cape over his Death Eater garb over the witch and turning away as Tom's body exploded, blood, gore and bone raining down on the couple.

After a minute or two, Snape rose. They were surrounded by floating bits of flesh and blood, caught on the shield Snape had cast. He removed it, and the stuff splattered to the floor.

Snape looked at what remained of the aspiring Tom Riddle.

"Hm, that didn't work out well at all," he said shortly, then looked at Hermione, who was standing next to him, one arm firmly wrapped around his slender waist as she stared at the mess with round, brown eyes.

Snape smirked slightly.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

Hermione looked up at him and nodded wordlessly.

Peter Pettigrew walked into the throne room, gingerly trying to avoid all the gore as he approached Snape and Hermione. He stopped in front of Snape, a perplexed look on his rodent-like face.

"What happened here?" he asked the Potions master, who glared at the wizard before pulling his wand and stunning him. Wormtail was the one who always manacled him for whippings in the past. Peter dropped to the floor like a sack of rock cakes.

"There's been a policy change,' the pale wizard purred as Hermione looked from the fallen wizard to Snape and back again.

What the hell had happened here?

* * *

A/N: Whoops. No, that really didn't work out well for Tom Riddle. Ah, well. At least there's no more Dark Lord of any kind now. Man, this story has gone far beyond what I intended, but the more I wrote, the more loose ends I created. There was no way Harry couldn't be affected, and something had to happen with the Horcruxes. I could have just had them fade away, but naw. This was better. One Dark Lord down, one to go. Thanks for reading.


	40. Aftermath

**Chapter 41 Aftermath**

Harry suddenly awoke, finding himself surrounded by white mist. He was naked and not wearing his glasses. Stunned, he stood up, spinning in place.

"Hello?" he ventured, wishing he had some clothes. Suddenly, a robe and slippers appeared on the ground before him.

"This is strange. Where am I?" Harry said to himself, picking up the robes, putting them on and slipping his feet into the slippers. Then, "Hallo! Is anybody here?"

"Hallo!" a voice called back. "Where are you?"

"Over here!" Harry cried, relieved there was someone else in this strange place. He saw a shadow form in the mist, moving toward him. Harry's hand twitched reflexively, wanting a wand in its grasp as a person formed. He was tall, slender, rather handsome with black eyes and wavy hair. He looked kind of familiar.

Tom Riddle looked at Harry Potter with some surprise.

"Mr. Potter? What are you doing here?" the wizard asked him.

Harry blinked at the wizard, sure he knew him from someplace.

"Do . . . do I know you, sir?" Harry asked him.

Tom raised both eyebrows as he fanned at the swirling mist with one hand.

"You know me quite well, Mr. Potter," Tom said, giving him a slight smile for a moment, then the smile fading as he looked at Harry's scar. It was on the wrong side.

"Er . . . perhaps you don't know me, Mr. Potter. I am Tom Riddle," he told Harry, who leapt back in alarm.

"Voldemort?" he gasped at Tom, who scowled at him.

"Do I look like that monster? No, not Voldemort. Tom Riddle, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Or . . . former Headmaster I should say," Tom said, looking around the mist. "But looking at my surroundings, I daresay I am the master of naught now."

Harry blinked as the wizard's response sank in.

"The Headmaster of . . . you must be the Tom Riddle from the other universe, the one Hermione went to," Harry said, looking at him curiously.

Tom walked past him, staring into the mist, trying to make out something.

"Correct, Mr. Potter, and I believe I am dead. We both are," Tom replied, turning to look at Harry. Harry looked exactly like the one in his universe, except his eyes had a slightly different look to them, although still green. Slytherin Harry had hungrier eyes.

"Dead?" Harry said.

How could he be dead? He could feel and talk. The flooring was hard under his feet. It was warm here. Death couldn't be like this, could it? But, then again, there was an awful amount of mist and the last thing Harry remembered was being in unbearable pain.

"Yes, dead. My greed for power led to my demise, but . . . that often happens to people as driven as I am. I should have done more investigation. Ah, well. At least it's not oblivion, dull as the surroundings are. I hope there is something else," Tom said as if speaking to himself. "That was all I was looking for . . . something else to fulfill me. And what of you, Mr. Potter? How did you die?"

Harry stared at Tom a moment.

"I . . . well . . . Dumbledore strapped me down to a cot, and then I was screaming, in terrible pain. I felt Dumbledore grab me . . . and then . . . and then I was here," Harry said slowly.

"Hm. He killed you?" Tom asked, somewhat surprised. He had the impression Dumbledore was a bleeding-heart Gryffindor like the rest.

"I don't think so. He said something about trying to protect me from something . . ."

Tom nodded. Gryffindors were always doing idiotic things like that, and failing miserably.

"He didn't do a very good job of it, did he?" Tom said, noticing the mist was starting to clear. He realized he was standing in the station at King's Cross.

"Extraordinary," he said, looking about.

"Isn't this King's Cross station?" Harry asked him, looking around. There wasn't a single person present in the entire area. "It's empty."

Tom looked at him. Couldn't he see all the people hurrying to catch their trains? Albeit, they were far more varied in ethnic content than usual. People in odd clothing abounded, fluttering about. What was also odd was the lack of luggage. Schedules and destinations were being broadcast in nasally voices, people shouldering past each other, running for their trains.

"It certainly is not empty, Mr. Potter. There are people everywhere, hurrying to make their connections," Tom replied, then appeared to listen.

Harry looked around. He couldn't see anyone.

"Trains will be departing for the following destinations: Paradise, Nirvana, Shangri-La, Christian heaven, Christian hell, Heaven, Hell, ValHalla, Purgatory, Rebirth and all points, all places, all cosmic plans between," a voice droned.

Tom's eyes widened and he began to walk away from Harry, who ran after him, not wanting to be left alone.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Harry called after Tom Riddle, who called back over his shoulder, "I don't know. I'm considering Rebirth. Can't get back in the saddle too soon."

"Where's that?" Harry said, catching up to him. Tom pointed to an empty platform.

"Right there. Can't you see the locomotive?" the wizard asked him, picking up his stride.

"No, I can't," Harry said, halting.

Tom stopped for a moment.

"I don't think you're properly dead, Mr. Potter. If you can't see the trains, you certainly can't board them. I'd try to get back to earth if I were you. It's clear you don't belong here. As for me, I need to go. Good luck to you, Mr. Potter. As far as I know, you are free of Voldemort, since he passed into my world and I destroyed the mirror that gave him access. Your life should be relatively pleasant. Now, good-bye. There are more adventures for me."

Tom walked away and faded before Harry's eyes, blending in with the world of the truly dead. Harry stood there staring at the now empty space before him. He never thought he'd ever in his life want to be in the presence of Tom Riddle, much less accompany him anyplace. Now, he was alone.

"Now what am I supposed to do?" he said to himself, sitting down in one of the waiting areas, at a loss at what to do.

"Am I dreaming all of this?" he wondered as the mists began to rise again.

* * *

"What are you doing in the Headmaster's office, you hideous thing?" a cultured voice said with a sneering timbre. "Where is the Headmaster?"

His red eyes narrowed, Voldemort spun and looked at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. He raised his wand and blasted a hole in it, a scorched empty space in the middle of the painting. Phineas, however had dipped into the next portrait just in the nick of time, crowding its occupant.

"I am the Headmaster," Voldemort hissed. "Now be silent, all of you."

Voldemort flicked his wand at each portrait, covering each of them with a thick sheet. Then he began to walk about the office, trailing his fingers over the books, fixtures and finally the large, mahogany desk, easing behind it and slowly sitting down, trying it out.

"Yessss," he said, leaning back. "A good fit if I say so myself."

He sat there for a moment, before rising and walking down the corridor that led to Tom Riddle's large bedroom. It was luxuriously furnished in Slytherin colors. Voldemort approved before walking into the bathroom. It featured a large sunken tub and walk-in shower. He approached the vanity, his red eyes scanning the contents resting on it and falling on a hairbrush with a number of wavy black hair trapped in the bristles. Alongside it, lay a comb, also with hairs in it.

"These will do for now. I will make my change appear gradual," the wizard said to himself, pulling two flasks out of his pockets. He opened them both and inserted hairs into them. He placed one of the flasks in his pocket, then took a large guzzle from the other. He watched as his features bubbled, his appearance changing, becoming human . . . and handsome.

Voldemort studied his new reflection, smoothing his hand over his chin, running his hand through his hair and turning his head this way and that, thinking he was beautiful.

There was still the matter of his voice. He could purposely lower it a bit, but he wouldn't sound like Tom Riddle. Well, he'd say he'd come down with a sore throat or something. What was most important right now, was to see this world's version of his spy.

Minerva McGonagall.

She had immediate work to do.

* * *

There was quite a stir going on at the Ministry as Snape and Hermione stopped by to drop off Peter Pettigrew.

"He's supposed to be dead!" an Auror exclaimed as Snape pushed the bound wizard towards them.

"Reports of Mr. Pettigrew's death have been highly exaggerated," Snape said, his face frowned with displeasure. "My only regret about turning him in is that Sirius Black will be cleared of his crimes. Pity. And by the way, the Dark Lord is no more."

Snape turned and led Hermione away from the open-mouthed Aurors who stood inside the Ministry doors, holding Peter. They walked down the stairs and Disapparated.

"Did Snape say the Dark Lord was no more? That he's dead?" the Aurors asked each other in amazement.

Peter wriggled uncomfortably in the tight bindings, getting their notice.

"He's dead all right. Exploded, he did," Peter said sullenly. "Blood and bones everywhere. I can lead you to his stronghold, if the Ministry will cut me a deal."

The Aurors all blinked at Peter for a moment, then let out a whoop of joy.

* * *

A red-eyed Poppy was just about to pull the sheet over Harry's head, when he coughed and drew in a deep breath.

"Mr. Potter!" she cried, amazed, pulling out her wand immediately and waving it over him, checking his vitals. The wand tip glowed a brilliant blue, signifying perfect health.

"Mr. Potter, you're alive!" she breathed. "It's a miracle!"

Poppy was so happy, she grabbed Harry by the back of the head and kissed him squarely on the mouth. Harry fought back the urge to splutter. The medi-witch had been dreading having to announce to the school that Harry Potter was dead. Thank the gods.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked her.

The medi-witch immediately became grave.

"He's right here," she said, stepping aside and showing Albus, lying on a cot, covered by a sheet and breathing shallowly, looking very pale. His purple robes lay on a chair nearby.

"He's been badly injured, Harry," Poppy said softly. "He's been asking for Professor Snape, but he's not on the grounds. And he's forbidden me to contact anyone else."

Harry hopped off the cot and hurried to the Headmaster's side. The wizard's eyes were closed and his long white hair carefully twisted and laid alongside his head.

"Headmaster?" he said softly.

Dumbledore stirred and slowly opened his eyes. They were dull, but lit up considerably as they turned on Harry.

"Thank Merlin," Dumbledore breathed weakly. "You survived. Very good. Very, very good."

He closed his eyes again.

Harry had a million questions for the wizard, but Poppy appeared next to him, placing her hand on his.

"He needs to conserve his strength, Mr. Potter. I'll take good care of him and keep him comfortable until we can find Professor Snape," she told Harry gently. "Now, I need you to return to your bed. I want to observe you overnight. If your vitals are still strong in the morning, I'll release you."

Harry blinked down at Dumbledore. He looked so weak, so old. As if he wouldn't survive the night.

"Is he going to recover, Madame Pomfrey?" he asked the medi-witch as she guided him back to his cot and helped him in.

"I honestly can't say, Mr. Potter. I believe Professor Snape is the one who can answer that question. The Headmaster has been injured by powerful magic, a magic that seems to have torn at his very being. When I examine him, the light fluctuates. That's an indication that the soul itself has been damaged. But what can cause that kind of damage, I don't know. I'm hoping Professor Snape does," Poppy said softly.

Harry lay back down on the cot, and Poppy gently covered him.

"You rest now, Mr. Potter. I'll be back to check on you throughout the night," she said, caressing his head in a motherly manner before exiting the room. Harry's green eyes rested on the frail-looking Dumbledore.

What had happened to him? And would Snape be able to help him?

Harry hoped so.

* * *

Snape and Hermione returned to Hogwarts and walked across the grounds, Hermione hurrying to keep up with the wizard's stride as he made his way toward the castle.

"Professor," she panted, "is Voldemort dead?" she asked him.

"I don't believe so, Miss Granger, but one thing is certain, and that is he is gone from our world forever. He has no counterpart here to facilitate his return. And that means, the war is over. Many of his followers were quite dissatisfied, but were unable to break away. Once a Death Eater, you were a Death Eater for life. I highly doubt they will continue his cause," Snape said.

"But, they've committed so many crimes. Won't the Ministry track them down?" Hermione asked.

Snape shrugged.

"If the Ministry is wise, it will grant them amnesty for the sake of peace," the Potions master replied. "All service the Death Eaters performed could be considered carried out under duress, including acts of violence. The penalty for disobeying Voldemort was a slow, painful death and he wanted results. Not many options for us."

Hermione took this in, then said in a low voice, "Harry is free, now."

Snape nodded.

"As am I," he stated, giving her a half-glance.

For some reason, Hermione felt suddenly shy. Why she didn't know.

They walked up the stairs of the castle and Snape opened the door for Hermione, letting her in. Filch immediately hobbled up to him, although he looked at the wizard and student somewhat suspiciously as if to ask why they were entering the castle at this time of night . . . together. But he had a message.

"Professor, you are needed in the infirmary immediately. The Headmaster has been gravely injured and asking for you," the squib informed him as Hermione gasped.

"Injured? How?" Snape demanded.

"I don't know exactly what happened, but it involved the Potter boy," Filch said, his nose wrinkling up. Anything that involved Harry Potter was usually hazardous to the health of everyone around him.

"I will be there as soon as I collect my bag. Return to your house, Miss Granger," Snape said, billowing toward the dungeons.

"But I want to go!" Hermione called after him.

"To your house, Miss Granger!" Snape called back as he descended the stairs. Hermione ran to the head of them.

"But, I want to . . . what about Harry?"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape's silken voice called from down the corridor.

"Damn it," Hermione breathed as she turned to find Filch grinning at her because of her point loss.

"Straight to your house, Miss Granger," he snickered. "Mrs. Norris will accompany you, to make sure you get there in a timely manner."

Hermione scowled at the cat walked up and sat on her haunches, licking her paw as she slyly looked up at the Gryffindor.

"Fine," Hermione said, stalking off up the marble stairwell, Mrs. Norris following dutifully, her tail straight up in the air.

"That's a good kitty," Filch called after them, then turned to hobble off in search of rule breakers. He hoped Snape would be able to do something for Dumbledore. Poppy seemed very upset when she passed the message on.

Blasted Potter. Filch always believed the boy was more trouble than he was worth, and here was the proof of it.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	41. Beginnings and Endings

**Chapter 42 Beginnings and Endings**

A very frustrated Minerva let herself into the Potions office. Her extra credit appointment had cancelled, and she had hoped for a bit of enjoyable stress relief. Damn that petition. And damn Tom Riddle! He could have been more supportive, but no. He pulled a Pontius Pilate, washing his hands of the whole situation.

Well, the teachers had put their heads together. There would be one more quarterly report sent home before graduation, and every single student who boycotted them would fail. Every one of them! Let them deal with their parents and guardians.

Acting out was one thing, but facing the realities of failure was another. Some of the students would be shaken enough to fall back to the original status. Once the back of the beast was broken, and their solidarity smashed, the teachers could take control again. At least, that was the plan.

Minerva had just closed the door when a strange voice said, "Hello, Professor McGonagall."

The witch spun, drawing her wand and pointing it directly between the eyes of Tom Riddle, who was sitting behind her desk, looking up at her coolly.

Minerva quickly lowered her wand and stared back at him. What the hell was he doing in her office, seated behind her desk? And what was wrong with his voice?

"Headmaster," she gasped, "I . . . I didn't know it was you. Your . . . your voice . . ."

Voldemort made a big production of clearing his throat.

"I've come down with something, Professor. A bit of a tickle in my throat. Hopefully it will pass in a few days," Voldemort replied.

Minerva nodded nervously.

Voldemort studied this incarnation of Minerva McGonagall. She had long, black hair, black eyes and wore dark lipstick. Her robes were black and hung off her frame flatteringly and her face was nicely made up, not overstated. All in all, she looked younger than in his world, and definitely had a darker, more sensual aura than her prim and proper counterpart. Apparently, in this world she didn't have a broomstick stuck up her arse like in the other.

"May I ask why you are here, Headmaster?" the witch ventured.

Ah, Headmaster. How Voldemort enjoyed being addressed as such. The wizard held out a parchment. She took it from him.

"I am here for three reasons, professor. The first is that I wish to incorporate a potions store in my office. That is a list of potions I wish you to supply me with immediately," he told her.

Minerva read over the list. Voldemort had wisely requested several elixirs, when all he really wanted was the Polyjuice potion.

Minerva looked up at him with a small smirk.

"Two gallons of Polyjuice potion, Tom? It seems as if you intend to do quite a bit of impersonation," she said to him, thinking he was going to move among the students and try to derail their boycott. He was just that sneaky after all.

"Possibly," Voldemort replied, arching an eyebrow at her. "Now, the second request I have of you, is that you deliver to me the elixir that you feed Albus Dumbledore."

Minerva turned ashen as she looked at him, the list of ingredients falling from her hand. Voldemort watched it drift slowly to the floor and looked up at the witch with a small scowl.

"Is there a problem, professor?" he asked her, a bit of warning in his lowered voice.

"Well, that potion. It's brewed with the venom of his familiar, Nagina. It is poisonous to anyone else, Headmaster," she said in a quavering voice. "If you imbibe it . . . "

"Let me concern myself with that. You will deliver me that potion as soon as possible. Am I understood?"

Minerva nodded as Voldemort rose and walked from around the desk. He approached her, invading her personal space, looking down at her. Minerva was rather tall, but Voldemort was still taller.

"The last request I have for you is this, professor. I want you to arrange a face-to-face meeting for me with the Dark Lord," he breathed. "I have undergone a change of heart, and wish to discuss strategy with him."

Minerva blinked.

"A . . . a change of heart, sir? I . . . I don't understand," the Potions mistress said.

Voldemort ran a finger down her cheek, his eyes narrowing.

"It isn't for you to understand," he said softly, "but suffice it to say, we are now on the same side of the fence and need to talk in order to expand our territory."

"But . . . but he would never agree to it, Tom. Never," Minerva stated, looking nervous, afraid he would strike or hex her for her doubts. "You and he have been enemies for so long, he will be sure to think this to be a trick."

"I solemnly swear my interests and Albus Dumbledore's interests are one and the same," Voldemort lisped, forgetting himself, but speaking in a low enough whisper so Minerva didn't catch it.

Minerva gasped as the magic of a wizard's oath swirled around them.

"You give him that in a Pensieve. A wizard's oath would never take if I were lying, would it, professor?" he asked her.

"No, sir. No, it wouldn't," the witch responded, awed and shaken by what she had witnessed. Tom Riddle was changing sides? Siding with Purebloods? It was nearly impossible to believe, but she witnessed the oath herself.

"I want you to carry that message to him as soon as possible. I am anxiously awaiting my appointment," Voldemort told her.

"Yes, Headmaster," Minerva intoned as he walked toward the door.

"And deliver those potions immediately," he said as he opened the door.

"Yes, sir," Minerva agreed, then watched as he exited.

"Grindewald's gutted giblets. What is going on with that wizard?" she breathed.

If Tom Riddle had changed alliances, the wizarding world was in for a great upheaval. He was the most influential and powerful wizard outside of the Minister of Magic. This could mean a lot of trouble for Muggle-Borns and those who supported them.

Still, Tom had given her a direct order. She had to fulfill it. The Potions mistress hurried to her stores to collect the potions requested. After she delivered them, she would request an audience with Lord Bedaub Mules. This was news he would be very interested in receiving.

* * *

For the next three days, Tom Riddle a.k.a. Voldemort, remained in his office, seen little by the staff or the boycotting students. They figured that he was lying low because of the boycott, so his absence from the Great Hall wasn't considered strange . . . just tactical.

Minerva reported to Voldemort on the third day, informing him Lord Bedaub Mules agreed to meet him in a neutral area, a secluded, open moor. Minerva herself would transport him once summoned in two days.

"Excellent," Voldemort breathed.

* * *

Four days after the release of the Horcruxes, and subsequent demise of Tom Riddle, hundreds of people gathered under an overcast sky on the grounds of Hogwarts to say their final goodbyes to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Although Snape tried desperately to save him, he was unable to do so. The old wizard had absorbed the power of the Horcrux released from Harry, and so, suffered the fate meant for the young wizard. It was his final sacrifice for the Greater Good.

People slowly filled the hundreds of chairs set up in rows on the landscape, walking up the large center aisle dividing them, murmuring softly to each other.

A marble table was set up at the front of the assembly, the chairs all facing it. The Hogwarts' student orchestra and choir were positioned on right side of the table, on a raised dais, the young musicians quietly testing their instruments as Flitwick looked on, sadness in his eyes. Dean Thomas stood nervously before the chorus, sipping water carefully. He hoped he didn't hit any sour notes.

It was Albus' wish to be laid to rest at Hogwarts, and all classes had been suspended as preparations were made. Madam Maxime and a contingent of students from Beauxbatons arrived to pay their respects, Maxime throwing herself into Hagrid's arms in grief when she descended from the huge, powder-blue carriage.

The Minister of Magic arrived with a delegation of officials to say his goodbyes as well. All of the Order members were in attendance, Tonks sitting with Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody stumping to a seat in the very back, looking about warily. The squib, Mrs. Figg was there, dabbing her eyes with a small, pink handkerchief. The Weasleys were present as well, Arthur holding a sobbing Molly's hand as Fleur sat with Bill, her head resting on his shoulder in quiet despair. Fred and George were somber, for once not in a joksy mood. There was nothing funny about this. Nothing at all. Madame Malkin, Mr. Ollivander and Rita Skeeter were also in attendance, as were many others known, but too numerous to mention.

Rita's Quick-Quotes quill moved across a parchment notepad so quickly, smoke was curling upward from the nib. The reporter felt just because she was at a funeral, there was no reason to pass on a good story.

In the lake, hundreds of merpeople bobbed inches beneath the surface, singing softly in their strange voices, pallid faces rippling and purplish hair swirling in the current of the water. Shadowed between the trees, the centaurs stood, also paying their respects to the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever known.

Hundreds of ordinary people who admired the wizard all presented themselves. The first four rows were left open. Those seats were for the Hogwarts students, who soon made their appearance, each house led by its Head of House.

First Minerva walked up the aisle, her eyes wet, leading the Gryffindors to the seats on the right, followed by Pomona Sprout, head of Hufflepuff and her charges, who filled the seats on the left. The Ravenclaws arrived without a Head of House, because Flitwick was with the chorus and orchestra, but they were just as organized as if he were there as they settled behind the Gryffindors. A somber professor Snape led his Slytherins to their seat as well, his dark eyes betraying nothing of his feelings as he sat down.

**

* * *

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* * *

**The arrival of the students was the official start of the services. Flitwick tapped his baton and merpeople ceased singing as the organist and pianist began to play a prelude. Dean Thomas stepped forward from the chorus, appearing to look up toward the gray sky as he listened to the prelude, then began to sing.

_How do I say goodbye to what we had?  
The good times that made us laugh  
Outweighed the bad._

_I thought we'd get to see forever  
But forever had gone away  
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday._

Hagrid appeared, walking slowly up the center aisle, in his arms the fabric-wrapped body of Albus Dumbledore. The half-giant was crying openly, his brother Grawp, a full but rather small giant, watching from the back of the service. He took up several seats.

Quiet sobs echoed on both sides as Hagrid made his way up the aisle. Hermione sat between Harry and Ron, her head resting on Harry's shoulder, sobbing as he passed. Harry sat there numbly, overcome with sorrow . . . and guilt. Dumbledore had died to save him. Why did he do it? It was his burden . . . his destiny. Now, he had to live with the burden of knowing he was the reason for the death of the greatest wizards who ever lived. Yes, Voldemort was gone, but that paled in comparison to the loss of the Headmaster.

The chorus, strings and brass, and woodwinds swelled as Hagrid gently rested the remains of the beloved wizard on the marble table, then turned, sobbing, and walking quickly back down the aisle to sit beside his brother, who patted him on the head sympathetically, sinking Hagrid's chair into the ground a few inches.

_I don't know where this road  
Is going to lead to  
All I know is where we've been  
And what we've been through._

_If it gets me to tomorrow  
I hope it's worth all the wait  
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday._

As Dean began the final verse, suddenly, the sun broke through the clouds, brightening the sky, a single, glorious beam shining down on the marble table and turning it luminous with golden light, and Fawkes flew from between the trees, circling above, letting out a cry, then disappearing in a bright burst of fire.

_And I'll take with me the memories  
To be my sunshine after the rain  
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday._

Tears flowed freely at this display and Fawkes' final tribute to his master. Even nature itself seemed to honor the passing of this great wizard, covering him in light, reflecting the love of those who both celebrated and mourned him. The song ended, and Dean stepped back to rejoin the chorus.

A tufted headed little man walked to the podium and gave the eulogy. Harry didn't know who he was and could barely understand him. He did notice the merpeople had broken the surface and stood listening attentively. Hermione still sobbed silently against his shoulder as Ron stared at the body on the table, his blue eyes glistening. Soon, the man stopped speaking and Harry expected someone else to rise and speak but no one moved.

Suddenly, bright white flames erupted around Dumbledore's body, climbing higher and higher, obscuring it as several people cried out in surprise and fear. White smoke curled above, forming strange shapes . . . and Harry could have sworn he saw a phoenix soar away joyfully from the midst of the smoke. Snape's eyes followed the form . . . he saw it too, and the heaviness in his heart lifted just a bit.

"Farewell, Albus," he said softly, his black eyes glistening with moisture.

Suddenly, the fire vanished, and in its place was left a white marble tomb that encased both the remains and the table they rested on. Albus Dumbledore's physical body was securely interred on the grounds of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . . for eternity, but his spirit and his memory would always be carried to the ends of the earth in the hearts of those who knew and loved him.

Albus Dumbledore may not have been the perfect leader, but . . . in the end, he had made a difference for the better in the lives of others, and what better tribute to the worth of a man's life is there than that?

As far as the wizarding world was concerned, there was none. Albus Dumbledore left this world a hero, and a hero he would always remain.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	42. Conversations

**Chapter 43 Conversations**

Harry asked Minerva, who was the new Headmistress if he, Hermione and Ron could be present at the hanging of Albus' portrait in her office. Her eyes glistening, Minerva gave her approval.

"It will be hung this evening, Harry . . . after supper. Yes, you certainly may be present . . . you, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. I've always known you three had a special connection to the Headmaster . . . and he . . . he . . ."

Minerva caught her breath.

"I'll see you in my office after supper," she said, hurrying away.

Students and guests milled around, talking to each other as they left Albus' tomb. Hermione noticed professor Snape lingering by the tomb, resting his pale hand upon it. She excused herself from her friends, and slowly approached the wizard.

"Professor Snape," she said to him softly.

The wizard was scowling down at the tomb and looked at Hermione, his eyes rather cool.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he replied, looking at the witch.

Hermione really didn't know what to say to him. He just looked so . . . so alone.

"I'm sorry," she said, "for your loss."

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"My loss, Miss Granger?" he breathed, "you believe this to be my loss?"

"Well, you must feel rather bad you couldn't save him," the witch said.

Snape shook his head.

"No, Miss Granger. Unlike Gryffindors, Slytherins rarely feel guilt concerning situations they have no control over. Albus' death is not my fault, anymore than it is Mr. Potter's. He knew what he was doing when he . . . "

Snape's voice faltered. Hermione didn't know about the Horcruxes. Albus had confessed everything on his deathbed, using Snape as a means for absolution.

"Do you think I will be forgiven, Severus?" the old wizard had asked him weakly as life faded.

Snape had given him a small smile.

"We Slytherins have a saying, Headmaster, and that is withholding the truth is not lying. If no one asks you, then you have nothing to tell. No one asked you about the Horcruxes . . . so there is nothing to be forgiven for."

Albus had given him a weak smile, and for a moment, the old twinkle returned to his blues eyes.

"Always the Slytherin, Severus Tobias Snape," he said softly. "Always . . . the . . ."

And then, he was gone.

Snape looked at Hermione.

"Albus was the last of Voldemort's victims . . . in this world at any rate. I am not grief-stricken, Miss Granger. The Headmaster made a choice to die so that Mr. Potter could live, no doubt feeling he'd had a full life himself. I was simply standing here, wondering if we would be additionally damned for what we've done by unleashing Voldemort on another unsuspecting world, giving it yet another despot to deal with. Albus had no qualms about it, and wasn't the benevolent wizard you all thought he was. In some aspects, he was quite Slytherin-like. I believe we will learn more about that now that he is departed. People have a tendency to dig up dirt on those unable to refute or defend themselves against it."

"Oh, I hope not," Hermione said, "I'd hate to see his memory marred."

"What you like or dislike won't matter one iota, Miss Granger," Snape said, starting to walk back to the castle, Hermione falling in step with him. "People will do what they want to do regardless of anyone else's feelings.

Hermione walked with Snape in silence, and the wizard didn't shoo her away as they passed through the mourners, some looking after them as they walked together. After a few minutes, they cleared the crowds and headed across the grounds.

'Harry feels so guilty about the Headmaster's death. He feels responsible," Hermione told the wizard, who snorted.

"Of course he does," Snape sneered, "Gryffindors thrive on guilt. They aren't happy otherwise, unless, of course, they're in the process of getting themselves killed for some insane cause."

"That's not true!" Hermione retorted, scowling up at him. "I don't feel guilty about anything. And I haven't risked my life in forever."

"Have you forgotten Tom Riddle already?" Snape purred at her.

Hermione spluttered.

"That wasn't my fault! I didn't know he was going to put a death hex on me, or not take it off when he said he would!" she hissed, defending herself.

Snape turned away from Hermione so he wouldn't chuckle at her indignation. She was right, however, she didn't ask for that last slippery escapade into the jaws of death. But she, like Harry, seemed to just attract danger as if she were a kind of magnet for it. Still . . .

"But, Miss Granger, you were aware that the Mirror of Erised was technically 'off-limits.' Yet, you had to take a 'peek' anyway, didn't you?" Snape said, arching his eyebrow at her.

"Well, I just wanted to see what it was I desired," she said uncomfortably. "Harry and Ron had both looked into it, so I wanted a go too."

"If Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter leapt into the gaping jaws of a salivating manticore, would you follow?" Snape asked her as if she were a child.

"No," Hermione answered petulantly, just as if she were one. She fell into a sullen silence.

After a moment or two, Snape spoke to her, a bit softer now.

"I think, however, that a lesson could be learned from your adventure, at least concerning desire. The Miss Granger of the other universe was quite lovely, wasn't she? She looked like everything you wanted to look like. You've even adopted a bit of her style . . . but thankfully, made it your own. I would have hated to see you covered in war paint."

Hermione stopped walking.

"You would have?" she asked him, surprised. Snape quickly amended his statement.

"I hate seeing any witch slathered in the . . . stuff. First off, it makes her so-called imperfections even more glaring when she runs out, and the real beauty is lost beneath the façade. Not to mention the false advertising so many wizards fall for. They wake up beside a witch the next morning . . . all her make-up has either sweated off or worse, blended together and . . ."

Snape stopped talking, realizing Hermione was looking at him fascinated. Had that ever happened to him?

"Make-up should be banned," he snapped. "But, we are drifting too far from the matter at hand, and that is how what you think you desire is not necessarily so. I believe you thought you might like to be that witch you saw in the mirror. But in reality, Miss Granger, as you are, you are far better than your counterpart. You have morals, values, a conscience, something she sorely lacked. And you respect yourself and those around you. What you believed you desired was not what you desired at all."

Hermione looked down at the ground. She had slept with Snape's counterpart. How much did she really respect herself?

Snape sensed her contriteness and decided to press for some answers.

"Although I must admit, Miss Granger, I was rather surprised to find out that you were so attracted to an alternate version of myself," he said softly.

Hermione looked up at Snape.

"Well, I wasn't attracted to him . . . not initially. I just saw him as a teacher, just like I saw you . . . but . . . but I didn't want to lose points when I went to him for extra credit . . . and when he . . . he . . ."

Hermione's voice faltered. Snape was aware what happened that first time, he'd seen it after all, but he wanted to hear her version of what happened to make her eventually give the wizard her virginity . . . her body. Maybe he'd learn something to help his own cause.

"He what, Miss Granger?" Snape pressed.

"When he kissed me," she said in a near-whisper, "when he kissed me it was as if the entire world fell away and only he was left. It was . . . overwhelming. All I wanted to do was . . . "

Hermione stopped speaking, highly embarrassed.

Snape didn't say anything more as they entered the school. They walked through the few milling students and stopped at the dungeon entrance near the marble stairs that led up to the first floor landing. Hermione looked up at the pale wizard, who was giving her a rather considering look.

She realized if not for him, she would be dead right now, and her classmates could be attending two funerals, rather than one. She also realized that if not for Severus Snape, there would have been many more funerals to attend in the future because Voldemort would still be here, in this world. She was looking into the eyes of a true hero. Not a man who sought glory, fame and recognition for his acts, but a man who did what he had to do to reach his objective with no need for recognition at all. This Severus Snape was just as much or more a crusader than the one in the alternate universe. But he didn't impose his beliefs on others and publicly try to change the world, instead . . . he acted alone to do what he could do. And in the end . . . it was more than enough.

Hermione couldn't help feeling she was standing before another wizard who could claim greatness, a greatness equivalent to that of Albus Dumbledore, but since he had always dwelt in the shadows, under the radar, out of sight and behind the scenes, no one seemed able to see him for who he was. And she doubted Severus Snape was the kind of man who would ever turn light on himself.

She just couldn't see him standing in the limelight, accepting awards, greeting cheering masses and cashing in on a tide of adoration that could roll over him once his true role was revealed. But she could see him happy at finally being able to live the kind of life denied him all this time because of his service.

No matter how you sliced it, Severus Snape was a great man. Hermione felt a bit humbled and gratitude washed over her that he had taken the time to look after her welfare and protect her from harm.

"Professor, I don't think I thanked you properly for saving my life," Hermione said to him softly, intending on giving him a lovely, heartfelt 'thank you' worthy of a standing ovation.

But Snape ruined it with his next remark.

"No, you haven't," Snape replied, "but don't worry about it. You'll have plenty of time to apologize while you're serving detention."

Hermione started. What did he say? Detention?

All those lovely thoughts about the wizard dissipated like morning mist beneath the sun.

"WHAT? Why do I have detention?" she asked him, incensed.

"You are being assigned detention for passing through the Mirror of Erised in the first place, then placing me in the precarious and very dangerous position of having to save you when you returned. Surely, you didn't think you'd get away with that, did you?" he asked her pointedly.

"But . . . but I was the victim . . . and anyway, you 'benefited' from my absence," Hermione hissed at him.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"You benefited as well, Miss Granger, as proven by the potion you retrieved from me on the night of your return," he said, his eyes glittering at her as the remembrance of her counterpart came to mind. And what memories they were.

Hermione turned crimson at his reference to her having sex with his counterpart, and she began to splutter, unable to even find the words she wanted to say.

"As engaging as your eloquence is, Miss Granger, I'm afraid I must go. You will begin serving your detentions when class is back in session. Until then."

Snape swooped down the stairs and into the dungeon area, Hermione stamping her foot in frustration as he departed. What a git. Detention? Merlin.

"I can't believe him!" she growled, turning and starting up the marble stairwell, heading for Gryffindor tower.

Life saver or not, Severus Snape ranked high on the bastard-o-meter.

* * *

Hermione, Ron, Harry and Minerva watched as Filch carefully hung the still-covered portrait on the wall directly behind the Headmistress' desk. It was slow going. The portrait was heavy and Filch made several tries to get it up properly.

Harry and Ron offered to help, but the squib snarled, "Get away! The both of you. I've been hanging portraits since before you two were soiling your nappies!"

Under the sheet, little noises could be heard, and once even a "my word" as the painting was bounced around. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, smiling for what seemed to be the first time in days as they heard the former Headmaster's muffled voice.

Finally Filch got it up, backing away and wiping his gnarled hands on his trousers.

"It's up. You can do the honors, Headmistress," Filch said to Minerva, giving her a little bow.

The witch's eyes turned on Harry.

"I believe I will give that honor to Mr. Potter," she said softly.

Harry stared at her for a minute before Hermione gave him a little push from behind.

"Go ahead, Harry. Unveil him," Hermione said softly as Ron nodded.

Harry slowly walked around the desk and stood before the large painting. He swallowed, then grasped the dark sheet covering it by the corner and quickly pulled it away. He stood face to face with the blinking visage of Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah, light at last," the portrait said, focusing then smiling at Harry. "Ah, Harry. It's good to see you, my boy."

Harry felt his heart swell at the portrait's address. His eyes began to water, as did those of everyone in the room, except for Filch, who still looked moved in his snarky way.

"Headmaster," Harry said, his voice cracking.

"No, that's former Headmaster, Harry. You have a new Headmistress now, and I daresay a fine one," the wizard replied, his blue eyes shifting toward Minerva. "Did you give me a good send-off?"

Minerva nodded.

"The very best. Your tomb is on the Hogwarts grounds," she said, her voice quavering as well.

"Excellent. No better place for my eternal repose," he replied with a bright smile.

Both Hermione and Ron stared at the portrait, smiles on their faces. This was almost as good as having Dumbledore here with them in the flesh.

"We should hang your portrait in the entrance hall, Headmaster," Ron blurted out. "That way, everyone could see you and not be so sad. It would be like you were still here."

Albus shook his head.

"No, my place is here and my duty to advise the current Headmistress as well as all those who will follow. Minerva is in charge now. My time is finished, Mr. Weasley. And besides, I can think here. All that hustle and bustle would soon become annoying," he replied.

Harry continued to stare at the portrait, remorse filling him now.

"I'm sorry you died, professor," he said in a tremulous voice.

"It was my time, Harry. I'm just glad you didn't come with me. Life is a beautiful thing, and now, you're free to enjoy it. Don't waste it feeling guilty about something you shouldn't. I chose to save you, and was happy to do it," Albus said to him softly.

"But . . . but why did you die? What happened to me?" Harry asked him.

Albus sighed.

"That's a long story, Harry, but . . . if we were to be given a bit of privacy, I'd be happy to tell it to you," the wizard replied, then he looked at Minerva.

"Minerva, my dear, would you mind terribly? I promise it will be the last time I usurp your office," he said to the witch.

Seeing and hearing Albus had done wonders for Minerva as well. She had been mourning him deeply.

"Of course, Albus. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley . . . come along," she said to them briskly, herding them out of the office, followed closely by Filch.

As they descended the spiral staircase, Hermione said to Ron, "You know, Ron, I think it's all going to be all right for Harry."

Ron looked back up toward the office, then smiled.

"Yeah, Hermione. I think you're right," he replied.

* * *

A/N: You know, I always thought a living portrait of a loved one would be quite a comfort. Albus' death is sad, but having him available in this manner has to take a bit of the sting away. Harry will finally find out the truth without Snape having to give up any of his memories. It's a win-win situation. And how about Hermione and Snape? Detention? Lololol. Let the games begin. And let's not forget about the upcoming meeting between Voldie and Bedaub Mules. That ought to be interesting. Thanks for reading.


	43. On the Moors

**Chapter 44 On the Moors**

"I expect no treachery on your part, Professor McGonagall," a Poly-juiced Voldemort hissed at the witch as they stood outside the gates of Hogwarts and he took her arm. "If there is, you can be assured you will not be returning to Hogwarts or any place else."

Minerva's blood ran cold at the look in the wizard's eyes. He would kill her. She had no doubt of that. She hoped the Dark Lord was on the up and up. She'd hate to lose her life because of his treachery. If only . . .

"You haven't answered me," Voldemort growled.

"I understand completely, Headmaster," Minerva said.

She found it strange that for the last few days, Tom had addressed her formally, never calling her by her first name as he usually did. But she said nothing about it. He also stayed in his office, seemingly unconcerned about the goings-on at the school. Normally, he'd be full of questions and maybe even laughter at the state of things for the teachers. None of them except professor Snape was doing any extra credit. Even her own Slytherins were frequenting him, much to her chagrin.

What made it worse, was that she heard them talking about him with nothing but praise, and even wishing that he were doing more than light extra credit. He wasn't fucking any of them, and it seemed they wanted to be fucked. So, Severus Snape had gone from being an undesirable, to a desirable teacher.

And he was so quietly smug too. When the wizard came to meals, it was as if every students' eyes were on him. He didn't say a word, or openly gloat about the situation . . . oh, no. He was "too superior" to act in such a manner. Snape just ordered and ate his food.

The staff members couldn't stand it, and one or two confronted him, saying he shouldn't be giving extra credit but standing with them and presenting a united front.

"You MUST be joking," was Snape's only comment concerning the ludicrous idea.

And when Flitwick, who obviously hadn't learned his lesson with Hermione, tried to hex Snape as he walked up the marble staircase with his back turned, he was hit by several spells from students of every house at once. He was nearly taken to Poppy by his attackers, but luckily, Filch saw the students carrying the unconscious little wizard up the shifting stairwell and rescued him.

Hermione was one of the students delivering him, and wore a wicked grin when Filch literally pulled him out of their arms.

"They're getting nasty," he told the other staff members, who paled at the students' viciousness.

And Tom was staying clear of all of it, obviously focusing all his attention on whatever insanity he was attempting to pursue with Bedaub Mules. And Minerva was right in the middle of it. Hopefully, history would forget her part in bringing the two together, and Professor Binns wouldn't get wind of it. He published a great many history papers and was always looking for new damning material, the old snoop.

Minerva felt the burn of the summons, and disappeared, Voldemort in tow.

* * *

They reappeared on a great expanse of field, where the grass was shin high and it was easily to see all around them for miles. The sky was overcast, dark angry-looking clouds intermixed with light gray mists that scudded along, driven by wind.

Lord Bedaubs Mules stood there, dressed in simple black robes, his wand in his hand and eyes narrowed as he stared at Minerva and his guest. Scaly, noseless, lipless, with a long beard tied with a small band and longer flowing white hair, his blue eyes were hard and suspicious as Minerva released him and walked a distance away.

The despot suspected this was trickery, and was prepared in case it was. And if it wasn't . . . he was still prepared.

Voldemort walked toward the man who in his world was his arch-nemesis, but in this one, could be a staunch ally on the road to greatness, provided he were willing to share in the glory. He got within twenty feet of the wizard, before he held up his hand.

"That's close enough, Tom," Albus hissed.

"Don't tell me you're afraid. You have your wand drawn and you can see I am alone," Voldemort said, unable to help taking a stab at the wizard's caution.

The blue eyes hardened.

"I am hardly afraid, just distrustful. You aren't the kind of man who inspires trust, Tom. Now, what is this nonsense that you've had a change of heart? You have always supported those . . . freaks . . . those blasphemous accidents of nature. Now you want me to believe you've turned your back on them? You, Tom? It's ridiculous."

Voldemort smiled at Dumbledore's description of Muggle-Borns. He felt the same way about them.

"Yes, I wish you to believe it. It's true after all. You saw the Pensieve of my oath," Voldemort replied, his voice becoming higher.

"Oaths can be faked in Pensieves. It was only Minerva's assurances under the Crucio hex that convinced me to see you. And what's the matter with your voice?" Dumbledore asked, frowning at the wizard.

"Well, it's been altered a bit," Voldemort said, "as have I in order to keep my place at Hogwarts until I can present my true form by degrees."

Dumbledore's frown grew blacker.

"Altered? Degrees? Stop talking in riddles and tell me exactly what you mean," he hissed, his hand tightening on his wand.

Suddenly, Tom's face began to bubble as the Polyjuice potion began to wear off. Minerva brought her hand to her mouth in horror as he changed, becoming bald, scaly and absolutely horrible, but slightly recognizable as the man she knew, or thought she knew.

"I am the Tom Riddle of the alternate world, better known as Lord Voldemort. I lead the Purebloods in the war for power. I have come here to do the same, and in my position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, I believe we can help each other," the wizard said.

Dumbledore studied the scaly abomination before him. So, he came here to lead the Purebloods did he? Who the fuck did he think he was? There was one leader of Purebloods in this world, and that was Lord Bedaub Mules. He wasn't giving up his position for anyone.

Voldemort didn't see the subtle flick of the wizard's forefinger as he held it at his side.

"So you've come to lead, have you? Well, you can just return to your world, Lord of Nothing. I am in control here and don't intend to share my power," Dumbledore said as Voldemort's face contorted.

"Don't be a fool. Don't you see we are in the position to take over?" he hissed at the wizard, his own wand hand twitching now.

"And once we have, then what? Who will be in charge? Who will be the head?"

"We can share rule," Voldemort said, although he had no intentions on doing that. In the end, there could only be one Dark Lord. He had planned to use the wizard, then murder him at the first opportunity.

"Are you insane?" Dumbledore asked him.

This was the worst question one could ask Voldemort. He hated having his sanity questioned. Those who had the foolish notion to ask that, usually didn't continue breathing very long. The wizard began to tremble.

"No, I'm not insane . . . don't say that again," Voldemort hissed, crouching slightly.

Minerva noticed a movement in the high grass behind Voldemort, and stared at it. Then she blanched. It was Dumbledore's familiar, Nagina . . . and she was stealthily sliding up behind the wizard.

Minerva was between a moat and a hard place. If she said anything, she would be a traitor to Bedaub Mules, and that would mean her death. If she didn't say anything, she'd be a traitor to Voldemort, which would also mean death. But she'd known Dumbledore much longer than she did Voldemort, so . . . didn't say a word as the snake drew closer.

Bedaubs Mules kept the wizard talking.

"All right, Lord Volderot . . ."

"That's Lord VoldeMORT," the despot corrected.

"Whatever. Suppose I were willing to work with you. How do you propose we begin?"

"Well, first you would publicly announced that you want to call a truce . . . to cease all violence toward Muggle-Borns and their supporters in return for amnesty for your followers. You would state you would only work with the Head of Hogwarts, myself, and together, you and I will draft the truce, including a few 'perks' for Purebloods . . . "

Voldemort began to share his ideas, completely caught up in his vision as Nagina stopped behind him and raised third of her eighteen foot long body off the ground, swaying slightly, her cold eyes resting on the back of the bald wizard's head.

Bedaub Mules gave no indication of the snake's presence, and Minerva was behind Voldemort, so he couldn't see her look of terror.

Suddenly, Nagina darted forward as Voldemort gesticulated, turning his head slightly and exposing his throat. The wizard screamed as she locked on to his throat, sinking her fangs deep into his jugular and coiling around his body.

"Yes, Nagina! Kill him!" Bedaub Mules cried in delight as Voldemort whirled and staggered, trying to pull the snake away. He managed to twist his wand at her.

" Sectumsempra!' he rasped with all the intent he contained, managing to slice the snake's head from its body.

"NOOOOO!" Bedaubs Mules cried, running forward as his familiar and only Horcrux died in front of his eyes, the long body dropping and writhing, the head still attached to Voldemort's neck. Blood was pouring from the wound, and Voldemort's red eyes turned to the approaching wizard, who was snarling at him and raising his wand to strike him dead.

Summoning his remaining strength, Voldemort pointed his wand at the wizard.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he moaned as he staggered, weak from blood loss . . . and dying.

Minerva watched as the Dark Lord was bathed in the dread green light, his hair and robes whipping around him as the spell enveloped him, then stopped.

Lord Bedaub Mules dropped to the ground, dead as dead could be.

Voldemort dropped his wand, turned and staggered toward Minerva, almost reaching her, his hand clasped to his neck. He had torn Nagina's severed head away and blood was pouring over his fingers and soaking his robes as if a dam had burst.

He fell to his knees and looked up at the witch, one hand reaching for her beseechingly.

"Help me," Voldemort gasped weakly, her form blurring before his eyes as he sought the mercy he had never given.

Minerva looked over at the dead Bedaub Mules, and then down at Voldemort.

She gave him a nasty little grin.

"I . . . I don't think I will," she said, softly, but her black eyes were cold. "I've been waiting for that Headmaster position forever, and I have to say . . . I do have senority. You'd only get in the way of that. So, goodbye, Tom Riddle, Voldemold or whoever you are. It's been . . . interesting."

And with that, Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Disapparated, leaving the wizard to his fate.

She had some redecorating to do.

* * *

A/N: I know this was a short chapter, but I felt it should stand alone. My, my. What a nice, clean little ending to the two despots. If you noticed, I did a bit of turnabout in this chapter, giving Voldemort the anti-climatic death issued to our beloved Potions master in DH. The bastard. How does it feel, Voldie? Huh? Killed by a snake, an alternate version of your own familiar. Man, that was cleansing. Lol. I'm still pissed about that. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	44. Reaching an Understanding

**Chapter 45 Reaching an Understanding**

Minerva didn't return directly to Hogwarts. She made two stops. The first stop was the offices of the Daily Prophet, the largest newspaper in the wizarding world. After she spoke to the editor, Barnabas Cuffe, she and a contingent of reporters and photographers returned to the moors and the bodies of the fallen despots.

Minerva took the credit for killing Bedaub Mules, of course.

Then, she left all but one photographer and reporter at the scene, and returned with them to the Ministry, demanding to see the Minister of Magic himself. She was informed that the Minister under no circumstances saw anyone without an appointment.

"A fine way to treat the witch who killed Lord Bedaub Mules," she said to the two startled Aurors, who looked at the reporter, who was furiously writing and the photographer, who snapped a picture of the men who were giving the wizarding world's greatest hero in years the runaround.

"Wait here," one Auror said, hurrying up the stairs to the Minister's office.

An hour later, a contingent of Aurors and the Minister himself arrived on the scene to view and take the bodies.

"What the hell happened to Tom Riddle?" the Minister asked Minerva as he looked down on the scaly features of the dead Voldemort.

Minerva shrugged.

"As far as I know, he was taking the same elixir Bedaub Mules was, and that was the result," she replied, not saying anything about the switch at all. It was best to keep this simple. The Minister shook his head.

"Why anyone would do such a thing to himself is beyond me," he said as both Voldemort and Bedaub Mules were slipped into body bags. The severed head and body of Nagina was also put into a sack and taken away.

"There was quite a price on the head of Bedaub Mules, professor. You are going to be a very wealthy witch," the Minister said to her, his eyes narrowing somewhat.

Minerva gave him a rather crooked smile.

She already knew that.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, would you mind answering a few questions?" a reporter asked her. He was surrounded by several other reporters and a slew of light-bulb flashing photographers. Her face was going to be plastered everywhere. She slung her dark hair back and rested her eyes on them.

"Not at all," she replied.

* * *

That evening, Minerva retired to her new office. She wasn't wasting any time. The very first thing she did was remove the black sheets from the portraits and Obliviate them, wordlessly, so they wouldn't duck out of the paintings.

The secret of the switch would remain a secret.

The news of Minerva's "accomplishment" made it back to Hogwarts before she did. She was met by the staff, all of whom were ecstatic that she was going to be the new Headmistress.

"At last, something can be done about this blasted boycott," Pomona gushed at her.

Minerva simply replied, "We'll see."

This response made the teachers all a bit nervous.

"What do you mean, we'll see?" Flitwick hissed, his little eyes narrowed.

"It's on my agenda," Minerva said loftily, feeling it would be wise to separate herself from "the help."

This wasn't going to be the cakewalk the staff thought it would be. Minerva had a position of authority over them now, and she wasn't going to continue to act like one of the gang. Hell, she didn't have to worry herself over "extra credit" any longer. As Headmistress, she had other brooms to fly. She'd call on Horace Slughorn to take over her Potions classes, and make it worth his while.

She'd have her pick of wizards and witches now, older envoys, pages and messengers from the Ministry. The Minister always sent the most attractive and cooperative of his staff when he wanted cooperation from the Head of Hogwarts. That wouldn't change at all.

When she went through Tom Riddle's possessions, she found his journal. Every Headmaster or Headmistress was required to keep a journal to keep a record of the happenings at Hogwarts and their decisions concerning the running of the school. These journals dated back centuries and were available only to the reigning head of Hogwarts.

She sat down at the desk and read his latest few entries. There was nothing in the journal about the switch, which was good. The journal was protected magically from erasures and alterations. It could even become deadly if the efforts to tamper with it were great. But Minerva was aware of this, and there was no reason to change anything.

She carefully read Tom's entry concerning the boycott.

_The staff feels I have abandoned them concerning the students' boycott of the requirements of extra credit. But I have not. A proper Headmaster takes into consideration the needs of the students and the staff. Just because the staff is in the employ of Hogwarts does not mean they get preferential treatment. If not for the students, there would be no school._

_In this case, the staff has actually taken it upon themselves to reinterpret the rules concerning extra credit. The practice of mandatory extra credit has been allowed because there was no outcry against it. It was considered business as usual. Despite the many years this approach has been in operation, that does not make it legal. The rebellion of the students makes it imperative that strict regulation of the practice be put into force, with clear limits and options. This has been a long time coming, and it's a pity it came to a head during my service to the school. I've better things to do._

_I haven't yet informed my staff of this, because I want to be sure that the students of this institution are not simply acting out, but are dedicated to making a change. I am sure that Severus Snape has influenced this movement, but there are no rules against him doing so. Repercussions from the rest of the staff are to be expected, and he'd better watch his arse._

_I intend to let the boycott continue past the last quarter, so as to see how many students stick to their wands after receiving failing marks. If the boycott continues, then I will have to meet the students' terms and integrate the "Extra Credit List" into school regulation before the end of term. We cannot have all the students fail at the end of the year and no graduating class. Not only are the jobs of the staff on the line, but my position as well. The performance of the staff reflects the running of the school. I too, would lose my situation. I cannot afford that._

Minerva slowly put the journal down, considering it. Tom was right. Her position was in jeopardy as well, and she had just received it. There was no way she was going to get tossed because a few staff members weren't getting their rocks off. She decided immediately to follow Tom's plan concerning the boycott.

Then, she noticed another journal on the desk. This one had her name on it in gold leaf, and the date she assumed the post of Headmistress, followed by a dash that would show when it ended.

If she had her way about it, it would end when she did.

* * *

At the end of Transfiguration class, Snape was taking extra credit lists and filling in his appointment schedule. He had every house involved now, and the Slytherins were a real delight, because they hadn't been aware of his approach, and it was new and enjoyable to them.

Still, Snape had to deal with a bit of insubordination when he stuck to his guns as to what would be allowed and wouldn't be allowed, particularly when Harry and Ron chose the "voyeur" option and brought Parvati in. The wizard usually masturbated a bit during this option without bringing himself to climax, and once Harry and Ron saw what Snape was working with, they wanted him to join in. But, he adamantly refused.

"You're going to have to wait until the boycott is resolved," he told the naked young men as they pounded away at the howling Parvati and each other. All three of them earned a nice amount points for their enthusiasm.

To date, Hermione was the only Slytherin of age that didn't sign up with him. And, as against the rules as it was, it only made the teacher want her more on a personal level.

Hermione hadn't had sex since she returned to Hogwarts, but she did give Harry and Ron a double celebratory round of "Handjob Hostage" when the boycott took place, doing both gasping wizards at once, taking turns tormenting each of them to the point they begged her for release. She brought them to dual climaxes, their releases blasting from them as they groaned.

"No one can give a handjob like you, Hermione," Ron breathed at her as Harry panted beside him. They were both stretched out crosswise on their backs in her bed as she grinned down at them.

"It takes practice," she replied with a smile before kicking them out. They'd want to fuck as soon as they recovered. She knew them too well.

It wasn't that Hermione wasn't interested in doing extra credit with Snape . . . it was just that she didn't like the selection. All that would happen would be that she'd leave his presence frustrated because there was no actual penetrative sex. Yes, she could relieve herself with Harry, Ron or both, but that wouldn't be the same as engaging Snape in the ROR and role-playing, which was what she wanted to do. She'd just have to wait until the boycott was resolved.

Snape had enough of this, and decided to make a small move toward the witch. As Hermione gathered up her books, he looked around the line of students at his desk and called to her.

"Miss Granger, I would like to speak to you after I finish my appointments," he said to the witch.

Hermione sat back down and waited fifteen minutes. When the last student left, she approached the desk.

"Yes, Professor?" she said to the wizard, her eyes drifting over him as she thought about the other Snape.

"Miss Granger, I have to ask you . . . are you boycotting me as well? All of your other housemates have earned extra credit," he said to her softly.

Hermione could tell that the professor had very inappropriate designs on her, and gave him a sly smile.

"Well, I assumed since my marks are so high, that I didn't have to do any extra credit," she replied, liking that he frowned at her.

"I've been thinking about that, Miss Granger," he said slowly. "I'm beginning to think I was in error applying that Miss Granger's work to you. To be honest, you really didn't earn the extra points yourself . . . "

Hermione curled her lip at him teasingly. They were playing quite the dangerous game here, and they were both aware of it.

"But, if you took those points away, Professor, then you will have broken the school rules and engaged a student for what could be considered your own pleasure. I believe that results in immediate sacking, doesn't it?"

Snape shook his head. He should have known Hermione was too sharp to be taken in like that.

"Touché, Miss Granger," he said, "and you are right about your marks. Any extra credit work would be solely at my discretion if you were to apply."

"Yes, I know," she responded, her brown eyes resting on him. Yes, she could see his desire clearly, and it made her feel a bit strange . . . a bit . . . hot. But, signing up for extra credit would be a waste of her time if it didn't end satisfactorily.

"Is that all you wanted, sir?" she asked him.

Snape felt like sighing, but didn't. He couldn't ask her to sign up for extra credit as much as he wanted her.

"That'll be all, Miss Granger," he told her.

Hermione turned and started to walk out the door, when he got a flash of inspiration.

"Just a moment, Miss Granger," the wizard said, opening the top drawer of his desk and pulling out a parchment.

Hermione turned and walked back to him, and he handed her the parchment. She looked down at it. It was an extra credit list.

"A list?" she said to him, frowning.

"Yes. Just in case you decide to apply for a few points, despite your grades," he replied evenly.

Hermione studied the list, then her brows rose and she looked back up at him.

"There are no limits on this list. Nothing is crossed off like on the others," she said to the wizard.

Snape looked at her levelly.

"My discretion, Miss Granger," he purred back at her. "But, I'd appreciate it if you didn't let the other students see that list. They'd all be after me."

Hermione looked down at the list. It had everything. Everything. Penetration, ejaculation . . . the works.

Brown eyes met black eyes for a moment.

"All right. Thank you, professor," she said softly, then turned and exited the classroom, Snape looking after her, hoping his hunch had been right.

* * *

Hermione ate her supper and retired to her room in Slytherin house. After securely warding the door, she stripped down to her bra and knickers and lay on her stomach on the bed, studying the list for a minute or two before retrieving a pen out of her night stand and checking off a large number of boxes.

* * *

A/N: Finally, another chapter. Sorry it took so long. My muse seems to have evacuated for Gustav, even if I didn't. lol. But, she's back. Thanks for reading.


	45. Quite the Surprise

**Chapter 46 Quite the Surprise**

Lord Voldemort had quite the price on his head, but after Minerva discovered what had happened via Dumbledore's journal, and shared it with the Ministry, it was decided that since the despot wasn't captured or killed, but left the wizarding world of his own accord, no reward would be issued. So, although Snape had technically rid the wizarding world of the despot by facilitating his departure, he received no reward or recognition for it.

"Anyone could have delivered the mirror to Voldemort," the Minister said to the Council, which agreed. The agreement was not because they truly believed this, but because all that reward money would remain in the Ministry treasury.

Snape was free now, but with Albus' death, his hopes of using him as an investor for his apocathery shop were dashed. He did go to Gringotts to see if he could take out a loan, but since he had little assets of his own, he was promptly turned down by the goblins.

"Mr. Snape, you have no investments, no property, and very little savings. You also have no experience in running a business. Your potion-making skills are well-respected, but just because you have talent doesn't mean we can take the risk of losing money by investing in your endeavors. Perhaps you should take a position in an already established shop, under a successful apocathery. You can learn the business, save your money and work your way up. Once you have enough Galleons to open your own shop, we will be glad to give you a loan," Griphook the goblin told him as they sat in a private office.

Snape scowled at him over the large desk. The goblin was sitting on top of a stack of books so he could interact with the wizard. The Potions master felt like blasting the little bastard right off of them.

"If I had enough money to open my shop, I wouldn't need a blasted loan," he snapped.

Griphook gave him a crafty smile.

"That's how the world of banking is, Mr. Snape. High finance, low risk. You have to have money to get money," the goblin replied. "Good day."

Needless to say, Snape left Gringotts in a foul mood. It seemed he would have to remain at Hogwarts. He might be physically free to do as he pleased, but financially, he was in a bind.

* * *

Classes resumed two days later, and that morning while sitting at breakfast, picking over his eggs, Snape received an owl post. It was rare he received any mail, so he opened it immediately.

_From the desk of: Mr. John Bartleby. ESQ  
Ickle, Fickle and Bones_

Addressed to: Mr. Severus Tobias Snape  
Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Dear Mr. Snape,

Salutations. I am contacting you concerning a legal matter of some import, the reading of Albus Dumbledore's will, which will occur at ten o'clock AM, on the morning of . . . 

Snape's eyes widened. That was today! When had this joker sent out the owl? This morning? Of all the idiotic . . . stupid . . .

Snape rose and walked down the dais toward Minerva, who looked up at him.

"Yes, Severus?" the Headmistress said to him.

"Ah, Minerva, I've just received an owl requesting my presence this morning at a reading of a will," the Potions master said. "I know it is very short notice . . ."

Minerva studied him.

"A will, Severus?" she asked him curiously.

The Potions master nodded.

"Yes. Albus' will," he replied shortly.

Minerva's eyes filled immediately.

"By all means, go, Severus. I will find a substitute for you. Didn't Professor Binns fill in for you on occasion?"

Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, professor Binns, the ghost who taught "The History of Magic" class would fill in for him from time to time, and fill his good swivel chair with ectoplasm in the process. It took forever to clean the goo off wood. He'd usually assign a Gryffindor the job.

"Yes, he does," the wizard replied tightly.

"Good," Minerva said, "I'll contact him immediately. I hope all goes well, Severus."

"Thank you, Headmistress," the dark wizard replied. He exited the Great Hall, all the staff whispering about Albus' will, having heard Snape request the morning off. There were a few envious comments as well.

"Why is only Snape invited to the reading of the will?" Pomona Sprout hissed. "There is more than one teacher at Hogwarts. If Albus left anything, he should have divided it among us."

There was something about the divvying up of a dead man's possessions that brought out the worst in people. It was a phenomenon known around the world, one that could change the most even-tempered persons into jealous, money-grubbing opportunists.

"The only person who has any right to say anything about that will, is Albus' brother, Aberforth," Minerva said sharply. "If Albus wanted to leave you anything, you would have been called in as well. Now, no more about this. The entire conversation is reprehensible, and makes you sound like a . . . a vulture wanting to feed off his corpse, Pomona!"

The Herbology professor reddened, highly embarrassed. She said nothing more as the staff returned to their meal.

Hermione, seated at the Gryffindor table, watched Snape leave breakfast. He never received owls, and she was very curious as to what the letter contained. It had to be important by the way he reacted. She doubted he would tell her, even if she had the nerve to ask him at detention this evening. Gah, detention.

Again, Hermione couldn't help thinking what a git he was to give her detention because she inadvertently entered another world. But then again, she did become an extra burden and something could have gone horribly wrong. Luckily it didn't.

Maybe she did deserve detention. Possibly expulsion, since technically she wasn't supposed to use the mirror at all. Hm. Maybe she should be glad a few days of detention were the only repercussion for her actions.

She just hoped he wouldn't give her something horrible to do.

But, knowing the Potions master, he would.

* * *

Snape arrived at a small, unassuming office building in wizarding London. He entered and walked up a long, narrow flight of stairs to the top floor. There was a single door on the landing, with stippled glass on which was painted "Ickle, Fickle and Bones." He opened the door and entered.

The office was sparse, furnished with a simple desk, a plump secretary with blue hair and a couple of chairs resting against the wall. In one of the chairs sat Aberforth Dumbledore, who looked up at Snape with narrowed blue eyes. He wore glasses, was thin, grumpy-looking, had a large amount of long gray hair and a beard. As Albus' only living relative, Aberforth didn't take it well when he was informed that Severus Snape was also mentioned in the will.

Why?

Had his brother and this Snape character been lovers? Aberforth knew his brother batted for the other team, but hadn't seen him show interest in anyone since Grindelwald. That relationship ended badly. But, they didn't talk much when Albus was alive, and the wizard could have had a long term affair with Snape and he wouldn't have known about it.

Three closed doors were behind the desk, and the secretary smiled at the Potions master.

"Mr. Snape?" she asked him politely.

Snape nodded.

"Please take a seat, sir. Mr. Bartleby will be with you shortly."

Severus strode over to the chairs and sat down in the one furthest from Aberforth, who studied him for a moment. Snape looked straight ahead and seemed rather stiff and uncomfortable.

"So, Albus included you in the will, too," Aberforth ventured.

"Apparently," Snape replied shortly.

Aberforth arched an eyebrow at the pale wizard. He certainly wasn't a very good-looking man. There was something almost villainous about him. But, looks weren't everything.

"So, were you and my brother close?" Aberforth pressed, trying to find out what kind of relationship this Snape had with Albus.

"He was my employer," Snape said shortly, "for many years."

"Hm. Your boss, eh? Now, I know who you are . . . you run the Potions class at Hogwarts. A teacher."

"That's correct," Snape replied.

"Are you sure that's all you were to my brother? I mean, why would he include a teacher in his will? If he were going to leave teachers money, I imagine there would be more than just you here," Aberforth said, a small sneer on his face.

Snape looked directly at him now.

"I have no idea why I am mentioned in his will. As I said, our relationship was that of employer/employee. We were not friends," Snape said.

"How about lovers?" Aberforth replied with a frown.

Snape's face contorted and he was about to give the old wizard a scathing reply when the secretary said, "You may both go in now."

She pointed to the middle door.

Aberforth jumped up quickly and hurried around the desk, wanting to enter the lawyer's office first. Snape slowly followed.

John Bartleby's office was much warmer than the waiting room. He had comfortable upholstered chairs, a pitcher of ice water and glasses on a table in easy reach, and a number of plants scattered around the room. His degrees and certificates hung on the wall behind his mahogany desk. Several pictures of his family rested on the desk as well. He was a rather jowly man, balding and rounded, with sharp brown eyes. On the desk before him rested a parchment.

Albus' will.

He nodded at the two men soberly as they sat down.

"Mr. Snape and Mr. Dumbledore, welcome," he said briskly. "You have both been called here because the late Albus Dumbledore has included the both of you in his will. You are the only two people named. Now, do you want me to actually read you the will, or just give you the nuts and bolts of it?

"Nuts and bolts," Aberforth said quickly, "I want to know how much he left me."

Snape just nodded.

"All right. Albus Dumbledore had investments, properties and savings amounting to . . ."

Aberforth rubbed his hands together as Snape looked a bit stunned at how wealthy Albus had been.

"He's left a trust for Hogwarts, and donated to several charities," Bartleby continued. "Now, which of you would like to know what was left to them first?"

"Me!" Aberforth said, his eyes covetous. "What did my brother leave me?"

"He left you the sum of one hundred thousand Galleons," Bartleby replied.

That was quite a large sum of money . . . but nothing compared to what Albus was worth in total. Aberforth's eyes narrowed.

"That's a mere drop in the cauldron!" he hissed.

_"Ungrateful git,"_ Snape thought.

"Well, according to the will, your brother thought he was being quite generous, considering how you shirked your familial duties when you were younger. There seems to have been a little bad blood."

Aberforth frowned.

"He was the older brother. He was supposed to take care of Ariana, not foist her off on me so he could go run around the wizarding world with his 'partner,'" Aberforth said angrily. "It wasn't my fault she died during a lover's spat."

Snape blinked at him. Someone named Ariana died during a duel? He hadn't known that.

"Well, that is what he left you, Mr. Dumbledore. He also included a clause that states if you challenge his will, the amount left you will drop to one Galleon. So, consider that, sir. If you are unhappy with the amount, you may challenge the will. You might win. But if you lose . . . you will lose big."

Aberforth stared at the lawyer.

"Why that sneaky bastard," he breathed, looking at Snape now.

Snape gazed at the lawyer calmly.

"Mr. Snape, he has left everything else to you," the lawyer said with a small smile. "Investments, properties, savings and a number of priceless items stored in a vault at Gringotts. You are now a very wealthy wizard."

Snape was again stunned. Albus had left him the lion's share of his wealth!

"Why? Why did he leave all that to this wizard?" Aberforth demanded, nearly frothing at the mouth.

Both of Bartleby's eyebrows rose as he looked at Snape, his lip quirking slightly.

"He only wrote one short statement concerning his reasons, Mr. Dumbledore . . . "

_"For Services Rendered."_

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	46. Crossing the Line

**Chapter 47 Crossing the Line**

Snape's first stop after leaving Bartleby's office, was Gringotts bank. The Potions master had retained the lawyer's services, since he provided a turnkey service for Albus over the years and was familiar with his holdings and investments. No need to ruin a good thing.

A squat little goblin walked into Griphook's office.

"Sir, there is a Mr. Severus Snape here to see you," the goblin said as Griphook closed his ledger with a sigh.

"Him again? I already told the man we couldn't give him a loan. He's practically a pauper. Why do these humans persist in returning to us again and again, Snipejaw? Do you think it is some kind of inbred masochistic streak?"

Snipejaw shrugged.

"I don't know, sir, but . . . he is waiting," the goblin replied.

"Let him wait then. Maybe he'll go away of his own accord," Griphook replied, opening another ledger and picking up a quill.

Snape waited three hours to see the goblin. Finally, he was escorted into the office. Griphook looked over his glasses tiredly at the dour wizard, who had a manila envelope in his hand.

"What is it, Mr. Snape?" Griphook huffed without a greeting, his voice clearly implying that he did not want to waste his time on the wizard.

Snape eyed him.

"You're quite rude to your account holders, Mr. Griphook," Snape purred at him.

Griphook adjusted his glasses.

"It isn't that I'm rude to account holders, Mr. Snape. It's just that my time is valuable, and we have already discussed your loan application. Nothing has changed. You still don't qualify. So to talk about it further is a waste of both our times," Griphook replied evenly.

"I see. Well, I am not here to discuss a loan, Mr. Griphook," Snape said, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. "I am here to discuss closing my account. I am considering transferring my funds to another institution."

Griphook's mouth quirked slightly. The wizard had so little money in the bank, it would make no difference at all.

"If that is what you wish to do, Mr. Snape, you are welcome to do so. I really see no need to 'discuss' it. You could have done it with a teller right at the counter" the goblin said as Snape slid the envelope across his desk. Griphook picked it up, scowling. "Now, what is this you've handed me?"

"A list of my accounts," Snape replied, his own lip curling a bit.

"Checking and savings, I imagine," the goblin said a bit disparagingly, opening the envelope and drawing out the documents inside.

He read the first document and paled immediately, his sharp little eyes flicking to Snape quickly.

"It seems my resources have . . . increased," Snape said to him softly, his black eyes glittering.

"Er . . . Mr. Snape, you were absolutely correct to come to me before you arbitrarily closed your account. Absolutely! Let's talk about this over a few libations and cakes," the goblin said, backpedaling quickly before calling for Snipejaw, who appeared instantly.

"Yes, sir?" the goblin said.

"Snipejaw, bring us a decanter of cognac and a few cakes and finger foods. You do like cognac, Mr. Snape? I have the very best. The very best," Griphook said anxiously.

"I suppose a small cognac would do before I depart," Snape replied, amusement playing over his pale features.

Griphook let out an audible sigh of relief. If Snape closed his account, the losses to the bank would be terrible, and Griphook might be literally torn to pieces for allowing him to do so. The goblins of Gringotts didn't believe in simple sacking for losses of this magnitude. They were a hard lot.

"Very good. Very good. Quickly now, Snipejaw. We don't want to keep our customer waiting," Griphook said. Snape could see little beads of sweat forming on the goblin's forehead. He was singing a different tune now, that was for certain.

The Potions master intended to rewrite the entire symphony.

* * *

A very satisfied Severus Snape returned to Hogwarts. He had gotten several concessions out of the groveling goblin, including a two percent increase on his interest, which was very substantial in regards to the amount of money he had tied to the bank.

He went directly to Minerva's office upon his return.

"Hello, Severus. Did everything go well?" she asked the wizard, who was staring at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which was staring back at him with twinkling eyes.

"Severus? Did you hear me?" Minerva asked him, sounding concerned.

Snape blinked at her.

"Ah, yes, Headmistress. Everything went fine. The reason I am here is that I am formally handing in my resignation. This is my last year at Hogwarts," he told her.

Minerva's eyes went wide.

"Resigning? You're resigning Severus? But why?" she asked him.

"It is time to move on, Minerva. I have been connected to this school for far too long. I wish to pursue other avenues now," he said quietly.

Minerva blinked at him. Severus leaving? After all these years? The school wouldn't be the same without him.

"Would an increase in salary convince you to stay?" she asked him.

He shook his head.

"Nothing you could offer me would convince me to stay, Minerva. With Voldemort gone, and my service as a spy over, it is time for a new lease on life. I'm a free man now and wish to enjoy my newfound liberty."

"But what will you do? Where will you go?" she asked him. He'd always lived at Hogwarts.

"I have plans, Minerva. Don't worry. I am more than capable of surviving outside of the castle walls," he replied obliquely.

"You will be missed at Hogwarts, Severus," Albus said from the painting, "but I wish you all the best in your endeavors, my boy."

Once again, Snape stared at the portrait.

"I am sure I will do well, Headmaster," Snape replied. "And thank you."

Albus grinned at him.

"Well, I couldn't take it with me," he replied glibly as Minerva twisted in the chair to look at him with hard eyes. This was Albus' doing.

"And I know of no wizard who deserves it more," Albus added soberly.

Snape took a deep breath as if he were going to say something extremely difficult, but then released it.

"I will go now, Headmistress," he said to Minerva, who frowned up at him.

"Very well, Severus," she said with a heavy voice. She watched as the wizard departed, then turned in her chair to scowl at Albus' painting.

"You're the cause of me losing an excellent Potions master. Now, I'll have to fill his position before next term," she spat him.

"Contact Horace Slughorn. I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to teach Potions," Albus advised her.

"He's no Severus Snape," she grumbled, turning back around in her chair and getting ready to draft an offer to Slughorn.

"No, there is only one Severus Snape. More's the pity," Albus replied softly.

* * *

Snape spent the rest of the day in his private rooms, brooding over his plans for the future. He was a man of means now. He didn't have to work if he didn't want to, but an idle mind was the devil's playground, and that deity already had covered far too much ground with the wizard. Running an apothecary shop would be rewarding as well as profitable. But, he needed to do some recon, and he wouldn't be able to do it himself and not alert the other apothecaries that competition was afoot.

He needed to check out the most successful shops, get an idea of how they ran things, what sold best, where items were purchased wholesale and so forth. Questions would have to be asked. Snape was a rather daunting questioner, and everyone would wonder what he was up to the moment he showed more than a passing interest in their business. He didn't want that.

Hm. He had an idea.

* * *

Hermione snored through her Advanced History of Magic class as professor Binns wheezed on in his droning, vacuum cleaner-like voice. It didn't get anymore exciting in later years, but he was good with marking. Like the rest of the teachers, professor Binns engaged in extra credit, but always from a voyeur standpoint. He had certain students he enjoyed watching, like Hermione, who could do a mean striptease, but usually he had his translucent nose in a history book while the students did whatever it was they'd do. Then he'd give them points and toss them out.

It took a lot of effort for the ghost to do his reading. He usually employed one of the snarling house-elves to get books, open newspapers and turn pages for him. His writing he did on ghost-parchment, which he then had sent out and transcribed so he could publish them. Professor Binns wasn't truly that concerned about the boycott, and only joined in with the teachers to show solidarity. Yet, to be honest, they didn't treat him very well. They virtually ignored the ghost in most circumstances. Ignoring his comments and walking through him as if he didn't exist.

So, when he was visited by one Severus Snape, the ghost listened to what he had to say, surprised the wizard approached him.

"You want me to betray my fellow teachers and accept the extra credit list," he asked Snape, who stood in the middle of his cob-web strewn private quarters in the dim torch-light.

The only things not covered in webbing were the books on the shelves. The chairs, sofas, floo and paintings all looked as if shrouded in gossamer. Professor Binns didn't use any of these things, so it made no sense to keep them up. Even his students just stood, did their thing and left.

"Yes, professor. Out of all of the staff, you get the least out of extra credit as it is. If there were other options, you could have more assistance with the work that does interest you. For example, you could have a student, rather than a house-elf to handle your documents, even transcribe your work and delivering it to publishers, saving Galleons," Snape purred at him.

Professor Binns' eyes lit up.

"And think, you could send them to the Ministry library to do research for you, rather than wait for the books you've ordered to be delivered here. There are several very talented students who have excellent researching skills."

"Hm. You make a very good point, professor Snape," the ghost droned, bobbing over to his books and looking at them longingly. "The house-elves often damage my covers with their claws, as well as rip my newspapers, and I don't think it's accidental. Mean little buggers, they are."

"Of course," Snape said silkily, "there might be repercussions from the other teachers if you do this, professor."

Professor Binns turned to face Snape, floating a foot off the floor, his wizened face turning rather crafty as he arched a ghostly eyebrow at the wizard.

"Posh and bother! What possible retribution can a mortal exercise on a ghost, professor? I am virtually hex-proof. True, there are some congealing spells that can temporarily slow me down, and . . . I can be exorcised, but that takes a lot more effort than any of these lazy dregs would be willing to go through, not to mention a priest. I don't think I priest would set foot in a place like Hogwarts. Some still believe in burning witches, you know."

Snape nodded, hiding his grin. It was clear Binns didn't think much of his other staff members when you got down to it. Possibly, he was convinced.

"I'll consider what you've said, Snape," professor Binns told him. "More than likely, I will agree. History shows that small movements within institutions such as this one, when handled with determination and focus, usually result in change. As a historian, I must respect and follow the established trends. I will only get a jump on the rest of the staff if I do."

"Thank you, professor. I'm sure the students will respect you for your decision," Snape replied.

"Their respect doesn't move me a bit, professor. But what they can do for me is quite appealing," the ghost replied. "Good day."

"Good day, professor," Snape replied, exiting the tomb-like quarters and drawing in a deep breath of relatively fresh air.

He wore a slight smile as he made his way to his office.

* * *

At lunch, the students and staff were quietly eating their meals. Professor Binns was there as he always was. He couldn't eat, and at times it was rather torturous watching the others enjoying their food. Some of the staff even teased him indirectly, purposely exclaiming over how good their meals were.

Well, this might give them a bit of indigestion.

Professor Binns floated through the dais and down to the floor, facing the students as all the staff stopped eating to look at him. Minerva's eyes were narrowed. She sat in a huge, high-backed throne-like chair she had purposely placed in the Great Hall to further accentuate her position of Headmistress and to make the other staff painfully aware that she was the boss. Understatement was not her forte.

"I have an announcement to make," professor Binns wheezed.

All the students stopped eating to look at him. Professor Binns never talked to any of them outside of his classroom, so this was quite interesting.

"I would like to let you know I will be instituting use of the extra credit list in my class, with alternate options, some of which will require off-grounds travel around the wizarding world on the part of my students," the ghost said. "Effective immediately."

Cheers rose as Binns drifted back to the dais, and through the table to bob over his seat as his fellow staff members hissed their anger at him.

"Cuthbert, how could you betray us like that?" Sinistra said to him.

"I've only done what you will all soon have to do yourselves. If you were wise, you'd do it now so you can maintain some semblance of choice and dignity," he replied dryly. "Besides, unlike you, I derive no physical pleasure from sexually engaging my students. By enacting the extra credit list, they can be of far better use. Betrayal has nothing to do with it, professor Sinistra."

"Still, you should have stood with us," Flitwick hissed at him

"A house divided against itself cannot stand, Filius," Binns replied. "And you are all divided. I am not fool enough to stand beneath a crumbling foundation. I don't have to be crushed to know I should move."

Of course, professor Binns couldn't be crushed, he was a ghost after all. It was an allegory.

Snape continued to eat, taking great pleasure in the students' victory. Yes, it was happening. Hermione was smiling from ear to ear as she hugged Ron, Harry and the other Slytherins. All around the Great Hall, the students were expressing their joy, punching their fists in the air and shouting, "He is agreed!" in reference to professor Binns. Not only had he agreed to use the extra credit list, but he had gone against his fellow teachers. That made him a hero in the students' eyes. The ghost studied the students, his eyes somewhat glassy as they hailed him. He had never been acknowledged in this manner, and was very moved.

The teachers sullenly returned to their meals as the students high-fived each other in celebration and slowly returned to their meals. Minerva said nothing about Binns' decision.

There was nothing to say.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. For those of you who visit theburningpen . com website, it is being moved to another hosting service and there may be some downtime over the next couple of days. I almost lost it completely. Yeesh. Scary moment there. Thank goodness for readers that love the site and generously donated the 25 yearly hosting fee to cover the next year. Thanks ya'll. See why I luvs ya? Lolol. Anyway, again, thanks for reading.


	47. Clarifications

**Chapter 48 Clarifications**

In Advanced Transfiguration class, Hermione lingered as Snape collected written extra credit work and made appointments. She didn't get in line because she didn't want the other students to know about her "discretionary" extra credit list. It would most likely cause pandemonium, and, to be honest, a few hexes might fly in Snape's direction if they knew he had given Hermione carte blanche.

When the last student left, Hermione approached the wizard's desk. Snape looked up at her as she offered him the list. He did his best to conceal his delight as she did so. He calmly took the list from her hand and read it, his dark eyes moving from left to right as Hermione watched him closely for reaction.

Snape turned the parchment over and continued to read the list, not showing any overt signs of surprise, although inwardly, he was literally dancing on top of his desk. Great Grindelwald, if they did everything on this list, technically Miss Granger wouldn't have to do a lick of class work for the rest of the year!

Snape deliberately placed the parchment down on his desk and looked up at Hermione, who quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Well?" she said.

Snape cleared his throat.

"Er . . . Miss Granger, the sheer volume of acts you've selected would result in an extraordinary amount of points. What you want to do to me during role-play alone is . . . quite point-heavy," he said to her. "I'm afraid if I were to accept this list, I would have to put a basic cap on the points you would receive and it would be much lower than what you would ordinarily earn for such a . . . a wide selection."

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"How much lower?" she asked, her brown eyes curious.

"Approximately seven hundred points," the wizard replied.

As much as he wanted to engage the witch, he couldn't give her all those points.

Hermione studied him, her eyes amused. Snape was holding his breath and didn't even realize it. But she did.

"That's fine," she said shortly.

"It is?" Snape responded, his voice cracking before he cleared it and added some bass. "It is?"

Hermione nodded, her lips tightening as she tried not to laugh.

"Ah . . . very well. Very well. However, because of the . . . er . . . depth of involvement of your list . . . I'm afraid I will have to schedule your appointment for the weekend, rather than a weekday afternoon. It will require several hours to complete.

"That's fine," Hermione replied again.

"I believe Sunday evening would be best. But, you would have to be willing to go to breakfast the following morning from my rooms, since more than likely . . . our appointment will be an overnight event. A few fortifying potions may be in order as well."

Snape wanted to rest up on Saturday so he would be in top form to deal with the witch's list.

"That's fine," Hermione said yet again.

Snape scheduled Hermione's appointment to begin at seven o'clock Sunday evening, right after supper.

"Eat lightly," he told her. "Food and drink will be provided as we need it."

"Well, I'll certainly be skipping dessert, professor. There's chocolate syrup on the list," Hermione said to the wizard, who looked down at it. "As well as whipped cream, honey and cherries."

"That's hardly food, Miss Granger" he replied, fighting the erection that threatened to burst through his trousers. Hermione Granger was a very wicked little witch. "In order to utilize such items, you need to have a central dish. A sweet cake, or fruit, perhaps."

"That's true, but I prefer . . . meat with my whipped cream and cherries," she said with a crooked grin as the teacher shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "Goodbye, professor."

And with that scintillating little comment, the witch walked out of the classroom, Snape staring after her before letting his head drop heavily to his desk with a clunk.

"My word," he breathed against the wood before lifting his head and studying the list again. Sunday was still four days away.

If done right, completing Miss Granger's extra credit requirements would be quite a lot of work.

The wizard smiled lustfully.

He'd suffer through it.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, the Potions master was dealing with the aftermath of his newly acquired wealth. It seemed Aberforth was taking Albus' will well at all, and went straight to the Prophet with the story.

_"Professor Severus Snape Now Rolling in Galleons!"_ the headline screamed.

There followed an article about Albus' bequest, along with some very poignant questions about the nature of the relationship between the Potions master and the Headmaster of the school. Rita Skeeter had written the article, so of course it was full of insinuations and just plain garbage.

_The large amount of money given to the wizard makes us wonder, just what kind of services did professor Snape render?_

There were also intimations that Albus may have been drugged with a potion which caused him to sign over the lion's share of his wealth to the dark wizard, and Aberforth wanted the Ministry to exhume the body and examine it for foul play. In that way, he wouldn't be directly contesting the will. He was just as manipulative as his deceased brother.

In addition to the news article, Snape was practically smothered in owls at breakfast the next morning, swamped with letters from charities, inventors, poor people and opportunities for investments on the ground floor. Also, there were a number of letters from suddenly interested witches, complete with pictures of them in various stages of undress. These, he put in his robes pocket for later perusal. He threw the rest away.

Of course, the castle was a-buzz about Snape's newly acquired wealth, although Harry, Ron and Hermione were completely squicked by the insinuation that Snape had been giving the Headmaster the high hard one.

"Ewwww," Ron gagged as he read the article over again as he chewed on a biscuit. They were in the Great Hall having lunch and discussing Snape's situation in low tones as was everyone else. The Potions master wasn't present. Neither was Minerva.

"This is just . . . just sick!" Ron continued. "Snape's a lot of things, but he's no fruit. At least, I don't think he is. And doing Dumbledore? Oh, that's just insane. If he's doing anything, it's probably his own greasy hand."

Ron was a bit of a homophobe. If only he knew how his counterpart got his groove on, he'd be mortified.

Hermione scowled at the paper.

"That's all nonsense. Professor Snape didn't do anything to the Headmaster. They don't have to exhume his body to find that out either. All they have to do is question his portrait," the witch said angrily.

Harry studied the paper with a wrinkled brow. He was thinking about Dumbledore, how he had never heard of him being involved with a witch. Snape? Well, that was different. He was rather creepy, so his not being with witches made sense. But Dumbledore had been a very nice, very rich wizard, powerful too. The kind of man that attracted women in most cases, even if he was up in age. He didn't have to be married, but . . . at least there should have been someone . . .

Hermione looked at her friend, her eyes searching his face.

"Harry, you're awfully quiet," she said to him softly. "You don't believe this rot about the Headmaster and professor Snape, do you?"

Harry blinked at her.

"Dumbledore and Snape? No, I don't believe that for a minute, Hermione. Snape loved my mother, so he isn't gay. And he wouldn't give the Headmaster a potion. I think Dumbledore left him that money because he believed he deserved it, that's all."

The Headmaster had told Harry Snape's role concerning Voldemort, and what motivated him to do what he did, admonishing the boy not to ever let the Potions master know he knew the truth about him.

"Severus is a private man, Harry. He doesn't want the past dredged up. I am only telling you this so you know the truth of the matter and that he was never the turncoat people believed him to be. He was my man . . . I coerced him into it, but he never once betrayed me or your mother's memory," the portrait told him.

"Yes, that's what I believe, too. It's awful what the newspaper is saying about him," Hermione said. "I hope he can handle it."

* * *

Actually, Snape was handling it quite well, if bad-naturedly. The reason he nor Minerva weren't at lunch was because he was in her office being interrogated by several Aurors, as Dumbledore watched from his portrait with angry eyes.

"Just what was the nature of your relationship with Albus Dumbledore, Snape?" one steely-eyed Auror asked the Potions master. "Were you lovers? If you were, just admit it. This would all make sense, then."

Minerva sat at her desk, fuming at the treatment of her Potions professor. But she couldn't interfere. Yes, Albus had been gay, but he was also celibate, grieving over Grindelwald for many, many years.

"I was his employee and a member of the Order," Snape replied. "We were not lovers."

The Auror looked at the others, who shook their heads.

"Albus Dumbledore had a number of 'employees.' Why would he single you out to give his money to? Did you influence him? Give him a potion or put him under the Imperious spell and have him write that will? Tell the truth, Snape, of your own free will, otherwise, we might take you down to the Ministry and question you under Veritaserum."

Snape stared at the Auror for a moment, intense anger in his dark eyes.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" the wizard hissed.

"What? He's dead. We can't ask him anything," the Auror snapped back at him.

Snape's eyes shifted to Albus' portrait behind Minerva's desk.

"Headmaster, do you have anything you'd like to say?" the dark wizard asked him.

"Plenty," the old wizard responded, glaring at the Aurors who all looked at his painting, startled.

"What? What's going on here?" the interrogating Auror demanded, staring at the now animate painting. Like all the portraits, Albus couldn't interact unless he was directly addressed, questioned or involved in some manner.

"Albus Dumbledore is a former Headmaster of this school, and as such, his essence has been magically immortalized in this portrait, and he serves as an advisor to Headmistress McGonagall. He will continue to provide advice to all who follow her for as long as Hogwarts stands," Snape told him. "He retains all his memories and experiences, as do the portraits of the Headmasters and Headmistresses that preceded him."

Snape gestured to the other paintings, which now moved because they were acknowledged and nodded at the Aurors, who were amazed.

The Aurors all drew closer, their attention now off Snape on one the wizard within the frame. The Head Auror looked at Minerva.

"Is this true?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied tightly.

The Auror blinked at Dumbledore. He had never been in a situation like this, where he could question a dead man. It certainly made getting to the truth of the matter much simpler.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, sir, were you in your right frame of mind when you wrote out your will? Did you mean to leave your fortune to Severus Snape or were you coerced?" he asked the wizard.

"Of course I was in my right frame of mind. How dare you all question it? Severus Snape provided me with valuable information concerning Lord Voldemort and at great sacrifice to his person. He was never acknowledged or rewarded for his service in any meaningful way, and I suspected once it was discovered how he rid the wizarding world of the despot, that the Ministry would find a way to wrest the reward offered away from him. So I altered my will to make sure that he would be able to live his life the way he wished, indebted to no one," Albus replied evenly. "Before that, the bulk of my estate would have gone to charity. I decided to give it to Professor Snape because of his selfless service. I only wish I had thought that Aberforth would do something like this, use the Ministry to try and steal what doesn't belong to him . . . I would have just left him a Galleon to begin with!"

Albus' fury wasn't wasted on the Aurors. It was clear to see that Snape was given this money free and clear.

"Thank you, sir," the Auror said, then turned to Snape. "I'm sorry, professor. We were just doing our job. This situation received a lot of negative press, and the Ministry felt . . . "

"It necessary to treat me like a criminal," Snape finished for him.

"No, sir. Just investigate the possibility . . ."

"That I underhandedly secured this bequest," the Potions master said coldly. "That I in some way manipulated the situation to suit my own ends. I'm surprised I wasn't accused of actually murdering the man, since I was the last wizard to attend him."

Actually, that was going to be the next question before Albus interceded.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry, Professor Snape," the Auror said helplessly. "As I said, I was just doing my job."

"I see. Well, inform the Minister and Council that I will not be continuing Albus' yearly contributions to their campaign funds. I had thought to do so, but . . . I think I would be better off supporting their opponents," Snape purred at him. "The reason being I don't like the way they're doing their jobs."

The Auror paled. The Minister and Council weren't going to like this development. Snape was a powerful man now. His money would give him great influence in the political arena. Damn, they had made a grave error in approaching him in this manner. A wiser thing would have been to have a private inquiry before the Council itself. It was more dignified and less obtrusive than having a contingent of Aurors come to his place of employment and grill him like a common thief.

Well, live and learn.

"Yes, sir," he said a bit sullenly. "Let's go."

The Aurors filed out of Minerva's office, closing the door behind them. Snape looked at Albus' portrait.

"Thank you, sir," he said to the wizard.

"You're quite welcome, my boy," Albus replied with a smile.

* * *

In an attempt at damage control, the Ministry issued a public statement that Severus Snape had been cleared of all suspicions of foul play, which appeared on the front page of the Prophet's evening addition, citing Dumbledore himself as clearing him.

Aberforth was furious. He'd forgotten about those damn Headmaster paintings.

"It's not fair, old girl," he slurred, petting his nanny goat as he sat on the floor of the Hog's Head Inn, leaning against the wall, drunk as ten sailors, a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his gnarled hand. He had closed up shop immediately after reading the evening edition. The hell with everyone. He'd been cheated out of a fortune.

"It's just not fucking fair," he said, hugging the bleating goat closely. "One hundred thousand measly Galleons. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

If Nanette, which was the goat's name, could speak, she'd tell him to fix up the gods damn inn for a start.

It was nearly a bloody shambles.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	48. Detention with the Potions Master

**Chapter 49 Detention with the Potions Master**

Hermione reported to Snape's office two days later when classes resumed. The Potions master let her into his office and instructed her to take a seat. Her brown eyes took in the horrible creatures in jars that served as his backdrop. Did he actually use them for potions?

The wizard sat down at his desk, folded his hands and studied the witch before him. Hermione was dressed in rather worn, beat up robes, no doubt in expectation of some horrible duty she would have to perform as her detention. He smirked at her obvious preparations, but they were worthless. What he had in mind did not require worn robes.

Snape had experimentally contacted two of the women who had sent him pictures, inviting them to the castle after hours for a late supper on separate evenings. Both witches made it quite clear they were willing to do anything and everything to cull his favor. Both were quite good-looking and curvaceous.

But Snape found himself turned off by their willingness and obvious designs on his wealth. Either one of them would have given him a blow-job right in his office, but thanks to the alternate Hermione, the novelty of that situation had worn off. Besides, he doubted either one of them would have been as wild and spontaneous as the Slytherin. It would be pretty difficult to beat Handjob Hostage.

Besides, thanks to that self-seeking little witch, Snape had enough of women manipulating his dangly bits in order to get what they wanted. The wizard's cooperation wasn't coming that cheap any longer, although having a woman of his own would be quite acceptable, as long as she were truly attracted to him. There wasn't much chance of him locating one who wasn't a gold digger now. His money complicated matters.

So, the Potions master dismissed the trollops, because that's really what they were, telling both women after sharing a very light meal that he wasn't interested in forming a relationship at the present time. Each witch was affronted, of course. Despite his wealth, Snape was unattractive enough that he should be more than grateful to have any decent-looking woman take an interest in him. Money might pad his looks, but it didn't hide them in the least.

"To think I came here to give you the opportunity to form a meaningful relationship," one witch hissed at him as he showed her the door.

"Thank you, but no thank you," Snape replied as she huffed past him and into the dungeon corridor. "I'm afraid I'm not interested in what you are offering. I could simply hire a woman to give me what you so obviously want to for much less than my fortune. It would also be far less complicated. Good night."

With that, he closed the door in her reddened face.

"Bastard," the witch hissed as she stalked up the dungeon corridor.

Snape studied Hermione, who looked quite resigned. No doubt she'd thought he'd have her knee-deep in Thestral shit, or involved in some equally unsavory endeavor. If not for his current needs, he might have.

"I see you've arrived prepared to work, Miss Granger," he said to her with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes," Hermione replied a bit curtly. Although she had decided she could have received a much worse punishment than detention, she still wasn't happy about it.

"Well, from this moment on, you will not have to appear in front of me looking like a threadbare street urchin," the wizard informed her. "You will not be doing anything that will damage your attire."

Hermione swelled a little. Her robes might be a bit ragged, but she was far too old to be considered an urchin. Merlin. The nerve of the wizard.

"I am not an urchin," she snapped at him, then felt a bit flushed as Snape's dark eyes drifted over her slowly, as if he knew something she didn't.

"It was a figure of speech, Miss Granger. I am quite aware you are no urchin, believe me," he said quietly.

There was a pregnant pause, Hermione's eyes dropping to her hands in her lap, which twisted nervously. Snape continued to look at her for several moments before he continued.

"I am sure you've heard about my newly acquired wealth," he said to the witch.

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, I have . . . and I think it's wonderful the Headmaster left you something," she said to him earnestly. "You deserve it, professor."

Snape cocked his head at her. Outside of Albus himself, no one else had expressed that sentiment. He had been 'lucky,' 'damn lucky' and 'fortunate,' but not 'deserving' until now.

"You believe so, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

"Oh . . . oh yes, sir," she responded.

It was easy to see the Gryffindor believed he did deserve that money, and what's more, Hermione was the only person in the last few days who didn't have greed or envy in her eyes when she looked at him. It was too bad Hermione wasn't the type of witch that could just be bought. No doubt she'd be worth the price tag.

Snape sat back in his chair and ran a finger over his thin lips, Hermione watching him, feeling a bit out of sorts. Her experience with his counterpart still affected her, and despite Snape's differences in demeanor and dress, he still reminded her of the wizard who took her virginity. She still felt a bit of bubble in her belly when she looked at him. But this was Slytherin Snape. Dark, cold . . . well, maybe not so cold. He had engaged her counterpart . . . but the situation was much different. She was more like he was. A Slytherin.

"Miss Granger," Snape suddenly said, and Hermione jumped in her chair, she'd been so lost in her own thoughts.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," the Potions master said sarcastically, "but I have a hypothetical question for you and I'd like you to answer it honestly."

"All right, sir," Hermione agreed curiously.

"If you were me and received this large influx of sudden wealth, what would you do with it?" Snape asked her.

Hermione blinked at him.

"Professor, that's a difficult question to answer. It presumes I 'know' you, when I don't . . . really," she said softly.

Snape quirked his lip. She wasn't a complete know-it-all.

"Humor me," he purred at her.

"All right . . . just give me a minute or two to think about it," she replied. Snape nodded and folded his arms, waiting.

Hermione's eyes began shifting back and forth in the familiar way they did when she was deep in thought, comparing facts, figures and feasibility. Snape watched the process with interest as her lips pursed and unpursed and her fingers flexed, the index pointing outward at intervals as she made her mental connections and suppositions. After about five minutes, she looked up at him.

"I'm ready," she said, drawing in a breath.

Snape nodded.

"Well, you've been at Hogwarts a very long time, and in service to the Order. I know you worked against Voldemort for a long time as well as taught. I don't know how much you like teaching, but . . . if I were you . . . I'd want to leave here, strike out on my own. You have enough money to do that," she said to him.

Snape nodded.

"Go on, Miss Granger," he said softly.

"You wouldn't have to work, but . . . I imagine you would want to do something meaningful, something you enjoy. Something that brought returns, just for the satisfaction of it. I can't imagine you just lying around doing nothing, professor. Maybe you can, but . . . I don't see it," Hermione continued. "Maybe you could go into your own business . . . something to do with potions. Maybe . . . maybe open an apothecary shop and sell potions and potion ingredients. You'd do well because you're known for being an accomplished Potions master, professor. If I were you, I'd leave Hogwarts and open an apothecary shop . . . maybe even a chain of them."

Snape doubted he'd want a chain of shops. It would be hard to keep up quality control. He wanted his shop to be one of a kind, a shop people traveled great distances to frequent. But, Hermione was right on the mark, just as he thought she'd be.

He arched an eyebrow at her.

"See, Miss Granger, you know more than you think you know," he said to her soberly. "In fact I do intend to leave Hogwarts and open an apothecary shop."

Hermione clasped her hands together in delight at having divined this, and also because he was going to do something wonderful with his life.

"That's wonderful, professor," she said with genuine enthusiasm.

Snape found it a bit affecting that she was genuinely happy for him.

"Which brings me to your 'detention,' Miss Granger. I am going to give you a highly unusual assignment, one that is a bit off the beaten path. Normally, I wouldn't utilize you in this manner, and under usual circumstances it would be considered taking advantage of my position as a staff member and using a student for my personal gain. In other words, I could be sacked for this," he said to her, his eyes glittering.

Hermione swallowed, but was excited. She liked breaking rules, even if she wouldn't admit it to anyone but the gods.

"But, since I am leaving at the end of term, that's neither here nor there," the wizard continued. "And if you refuse me, I can give you more . . . mundane work to do as punishment."

Hermione didn't like the sound of that at all.

"What is the assignment, professor?" she asked him impatiently.

Ah, Gryffindors. So gung ho.

"I need you to keep this to yourself, Miss Granger. I don't want word of my plans to get out before I'm ready to open my shop. If it does, I'm sure my competitors and potential suppliers will do all they can to sabotage my efforts and raise their prices. I need someone to . . . peruse the shops, find out how they are run, what sells best, the going rates for ingredients and things of that nature. I also want to know what is lacking so I can fill that niche. I cannot do this reconnaissance myself, Miss Granger, or people will become suspicious. I need someone who appears guileless, innocent, who inspires trust, but underneath it can be quite . . . sneaky."

Hermione stared at him.

"And you think I'd be able to do this, professor?" she asked him.

"Undoubtedly. You've already shown yourself to be quite underhanded when it suits you, Miss Granger. Should I recount instances of that fact to you?" he asked her, arching an eyebrow. He had plenty to work with.

"No, that won't be necessary," Hermione said quickly. There was no need to dig up old dirt and maybe open old wounds.

"Are you willing to do this for me, Miss Granger? You will be working at it for the rest of term if you are," the wizard said to her.

Was she willing? Oh, more than willing. This was right up Hermione's alley. She could collect facts and figures, make charts, business plans, feasibility reports, and best of all, give the wizard informed presentations. She'd have a captive audience, so to speak

"Yes! Yes, I am, professor, and I'll do an excellent job . . . I'll start with the shops in Diagon Alley . . . maybe pretend I'm an aspiring junior reporter for the Prophet doing a freelance article on Apothecaries to get their cooperation, and after I gather all the facts . . ."

Snape listened as Hermione launched into all the ways she could accomplish this for him, full of excitement and enthusiasm, clearly happy to be helping him prepare for a new life. The witch chattered on for more than forty-five minutes, Snape giving her free reign.

"You're going to put the other apothecaries out of business, professor," Hermione claimed exuberantly as Snape quirked his lip at her. No one had ever professed such faith in him or his plans, or had been so willing to invest themselves in his dreams.

"You sound very certain of this, Miss Granger," he said to her, pursing his lips.

"Oh, I am, sir. I am," she replied.

"Well, I hope you can keep your excitement to yourself, Miss Granger. I don't want anyone to know what I plan to do, not even your friends, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley," the Potions master said warningly.

"Oh, no. I won't tell anyone, I promise," Hermione said.

Suddenly magic whirled around them. Hermione had been so sincere, she'd inadvertently invoked a wizard's oath. Now, she was bound to keep his secret. But Hermione's sincerity wasn't lost on Snape. Wanting to reward her in some manner, he made an offer.

"Perhaps, when you are finished doing this for me, Miss Granger, because it is so different from the usual detention assignments, I will pay you for your assistance. It will be a generous amount, I assure you," the wizard said.

Hermione looked mortified.

"Oh, no, professor. I don't need payment. I'm glad to do it, sir, really," the witch said. "You saved my life. The least I can do is help you change yours for the better."

Snape stared at her until she dropped her eyes again, feeling shy and exposed under his gaze. The Potions master felt a bit of a pulse in his belly as his eyes rested on the witch. He recognized it for what it was . . . and reacted.

"Surely, there is something I can do for you, Miss Granger," he said softly. "If you won't accept my money, what will you accept from me?"

Hermione looked up at him, almost doing a double-take. His face was so . . . relaxed, as if it lost some of its severity. In fact, at this moment Severus Snape looked more like his counterpart than ever. True, his hair was still lank, but that was the only difference.

Her surprise must have shone on her face, because Snape asked, "Is there something wrong, Miss Granger?"

"Ah . . . no," she replied, then said, "Professor, I'd accept your . . . your friendship."

Snape's face clouded up again.

"I don't do friendship, Miss Granger . . . particularly with witches," he told her. "It doesn't work."

"Tolerance, then?" she asked him, her eyes hopeful.

Tolerance? Oh yes, he could certainly tolerate Hermione Granger . . . and on several levels. But he didn't want to go the 'friendship' route. It brought disastrous results last time he was "friends" with a Gryffindor witch. He'd learned his lesson.

"Tolerance I can do, Miss Granger" he said with a nod as Hermione beamed at him.

* * *

A/N: Feeling a bit off my game this morning, but thanks for reading.


	49. Extra Credit 2

**Chapter 49 ~ Extra Credit 2**

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Ron said, bouncing on her bed as Harry stood by the doorway, leaning against the sill and frowning at Hermione as she got dressed. She had just exited the shower and was wrapped in a towel. The two wizards being in the room with her had no other effect than aggravating her a bit. Ron was begging her for a tumble.

"I said no, Ron," she replied, letting her towel drop, her back turned toward the both of them as she slid on a green thong, her plump buttocks in plain view. It was Sunday evening and she was getting ready for her extra credit session with Snape.

Ron drooled and looked over toward Harry, tossing his head at him, trying to get him to say something before Hermione was completely dressed. Harry simply scowled at him and shook his head. He hated begging anyone for anything. Hermione wasn't going to lead him around by his cock, even if Ron didn't have enough dignity to back off.

"But why, Hermione? And look at what you're putting on. It screams, 'shag me.' And I'm more than willing to do it. I miss you," Ron said as she put on a matching bra. She turned and looked at Harry, whose green eyes drifted over her.

"You're certainly dressing like you expect to be shagged," he said shortly, his brow furrowed. "Where are you going?"

Hermione began to put on her traditional uniform. A short green and silver plaid skirt, white blouse, Slytherin tie, plaid green and silver socks and black laced shoes.

"If you must know, I'm doing extra credit with Snape tonight," she told the both of them.

Ron brightened. Hermione would definitely come back from her meeting with the Transfiguration teacher hot and bothered. Snape wasn't doing full extra credit these days.

"How long are you going to be with him? Want us to wait for you?" he asked her as she pulled on her black robes and fastened them.

"I don't know how long I'll be, Ron. Don't wait up for me," she said.

Harry continued to scowl at her. He wasn't sure what she was up to, but he was positive she wasn't being completely truthful with them. She was taking a lot of care preparing for an extra credit that wouldn't be full service.

"You think you're going to shag Snape, don't you, Hermione?" Harry asked her suddenly. "Well, he's a hard case, and I don't mean that in a good way. He's resisted everyone so far, and witnessed some pretty hot action. He's no pushover. You're going to be disappointed like the rest of us."

Hermione frowned at him.

"I'm not like the rest of you, Harry Potter," she said a bit arrogantly, picking up her wand and putting it into her pocket.

"Yeah, you're so special, Hermione," Harry hissed witheringly.

He was very angry with the way the witch had been treating him and Ron lately. As if they didn't matter anymore. The closeness they had was fading, and he didn't like it at all. It was as if her visit to that alternate universe had rubbed off on her somehow. Changed her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said to him, noticing the sullen way he looked at her.

"You've never made me feel like dirt before," Harry said softly.

"What? What are you talking about?" Hermione asked him.

"How superior you're acting, Queen Muggle-Born. You don't want us any longer. If you want to stop shagging us, Hermione, just say so. Stop playing games with us—making us beg for it," the wizard said, his eyes hard.

Hermione blinked at him, then looked over at Ron, who was staring at her, his blue eyes questioning. It wasn't that she didn't want them. She loved Harry and Ron in her way. It was just that she needed closure and couldn't concentrate on them until she worked out her own problem.

"Listen, you two. Nothing's changed between us. It's just that—that since I've come back, there's something on my mind that's really affecting me. Something you two can't help me with. I'm trying to work it out now. Once it's out of my system, things will go back to normal and we'll shag until the Thestrals come home. Just be patient, all right?"

Ron sighed as Harry continued to look at Hermione intensely.

"What is it you have to work out?" he demanded.

"Now, that's none of your business," Hermione snapped at him. "I don't owe you any explanations, Harry. You're lucky I told you that much. Either you accept what I've said or—or go find yourself another partner. You don't own me! Neither of you do, and you know that! This is just a consensual arrangement between friends!"

Ron rose, alarmed.

"Calm down, Hermione," he said to her anxiously. "We're fine with things. Really. We're just missing you. Nobody does it like you do—nobody. I can wait, and so can Harry, can't you, Harry?"

Ron's voice had a pleading quality as he looked at Harry, who frowned then exited Hermione's bedroom without saying a word.

Hermione blinked after him.

"He's such a drama king," she said to Ron, who shook his head slightly.

"He misses you as much as I do, Hermione. But he can't bring himself to say it. I'd better go talk to him," the redhead said, walking past her, hesitating for a moment as if he wanted to kiss her goodbye. But he didn't.

"I'll see you later," Ron said softly. "Have a good time with Snape, if you can."

"See you, Ron," Hermione replied, watching him leave.

Then she walked up to the mirror and started applying her make-up. She didn't have time to worry about Harry's little temper tantrum. A bit of bouncy-bouncy would lift his spirits eventually. Right now, only the waiting professor mattered.

* * *

Snape sat at his desk, going over Hermione's checklist and nursing a major hard-on as he looked at all the sexual acts she wanted to indulge in. She even wrote in "wrestling."

He wondered how good she could wrestle. He knew she could physically defend herself. How realistic would it be? He could hardly wait for the witch to show up. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was six-forty. In twenty minutes, she'd arrive.

The wizard folded up the list and deposited in his desk drawer, warding it securely. Then he stood up and stretched his legs a bit. His robes were noticeably tented and had been for most of the day as his thoughts turned to the Slytherin witch. He could be sacked if it were known that his interest in Miss Granger went further than standard student/teacher interactions. That he saw her as personally desirable and the act of fucking her would be satisfying beyond the credits she would earn.

She had been untouchable, cold, sarcastic and basically a nasty piece of work to him for years. And now, she was coming to his bed, no holds barred. Every lustful thought he'd harbored toward the witch over the years would be worked out of his system finally. But he knew, even before he touched her, that although he might be sated for the night, he would continue to want her. She was just that kind of witch. But he couldn't let on he felt that way. It was—wrong.

But right or wrong, he planned to show Miss Granger just how good a lover he was, even if he was in role-play mode. He knew she wanted him to be the alternate Snape, but hadn't given him any details yet. He had a feeling it would be a very hot scenario.

He looked back at the clock again. Only two minutes had passed. It seemed as if time had purposely slowed down to make his waiting even more unbearable. He felt a throb beneath his robes as his cock protested the wait.

"Only a few minutes more," he breathed.

He walked to the private entrance to his quarters and entered, heading for the ROR. He opened the door to see that it still resembled his ordinary bedroom. No change. Well, he hadn't expected to see a difference. The role-playing was going to be based on Miss Granger's desires. He had no idea exactly what was needed to fulfill them. The mystery would be solved when she arrived.

The wizard walked over to his liquor cabinet and made himself a small Firewhiskey to help pass the time. He didn't have long to wait now.

* * *

Hermione made her way up the dungeon corridor. Supper was over, and all students were supposed to be in their houses. Naturally, she ran into a gleeful Filch as she entered the entrance hall.

"Oh ho! Out and about, Miss Granger!" Filch said with an evil grin. "It's after curfew. Naughty, naughty."

Hermione whipped out her pass. Filch snatched it from her and held it close to his craggy face, his rheumy eyes moving from left to right as he read it and scowled. He handed it back to her.

"Going to see Snape, eh? Strange for a Sunday night," the wizard said.

"Strange or not, that's where I'm going. Now, if you'll excuse me," Hermione sniffed, holding her head high as she walked up the marble staircase. Filch snarled after her, tempted to blast her from behind for her arrogance.

"That witch could use a good caning," he hissed, hobbling off to see if he could locate any students without permission to be in the castle proper. He needed to work off some stress.

* * *

Snape had the door to his private quarters open and heard the knock on his office door. His heart leapt, but he took a moment to compose himself, then slowly walked into his office, to the door and opened it.

Hermione stood there, looking up at him.

"I'm here for my extra credit, professor," she announced softly.

The Transfiguration teacher's black eyes glittered as he looked down at her. He opened the door wider.

"Come in, Miss Granger," he said softly.

Hermione walked past him, smelling of soap and a touch of jasmine. He sniffed delicately, his nostrils pulsating slightly in appreciation before he closed and warded the door. There'd be no need for an initial Scourgify on the witch. Sometimes he had to do that with his less than hygienic students, both male and female.

Hermione turned to him, her brown eyes washing over him. He looked too wholesome for her fantasy.

"I think there's going to be some changes in your appearance, professor," she told him.

Snape nodded somberly. He was aware of that because of the first time Hermione entered his bedroom and he turned into a replica of the Snape from the other universe. He knew what to expect physically. It was the rest of her fantasy he wasn't sure about.

"The ROR will make any changes you require in order to facilitate your extra credit, Miss Granger," he replied.

Hermione stared at him for a moment.

"I'll need to call you by your name. Severus," she said.

Snape nodded.

"That is acceptable," he purred.

"And you will call me by my name. Hermione," she added.

Again, Snape nodded.

"Also acceptable in this situation," he agreed.

Hermione stood there. For the first time since Snape had known her, she looked rather nervous. It was quite the turn on.

"I think we should get started, Miss—Hermione," he said softly, approaching her and gently turning her toward his bedroom. Using his wand, he lowered and warded the entrance to his private quarters, placing a Silencing spell around the area as well.

Hermione stared at the door, unmoving. Snape gave her a little push.

"After you, Hermione," he said silkily, standing close behind her. "You have to enter first so the room can conform to your needs. Go on."

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes glittered down at her, a trait he shared with his counterpart. She felt a little heat at the look in his eyes and walked up to the door, placing her hand on it. She hesitated.

"Go on, witch," Snape said softly, once again walking forward and standing close behind her.

Hermione took a deep breath, twisted the knob and opened the door.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	50. What She Needs

**Chapter 51 ~ What She Needs**

Hermione entered, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. Snape followed, immediately transforming into his counterpart, his hair becoming lank and stringy, his body appearing to lose mass, becoming thinner. Raised scars appeared on his skin, and a distinct feeling of coolness slipped under his robes, the wizard left only in graying, but comfortable cotton briefs. His black eyes darted around the room curiously. This was—interesting. It looked a bit like Minerva's former quarters.

Hermione turned, then caught her breath as she looked at the transformed Snape, mixed feelings rising within her as she looked at the double of the Potions master. Snape noticed her increased breathing and slowly closed the door behind him. It sealed, the seams disappearing, merging with the surroundings.

"So, this is your scenario," he said to Hermione softly.

They stood in Snape's private quarters located in the dungeons. The walls were covered in books from floor to ceiling, and it was sparsely furnished with a liquor cabinet, two armchairs, a sofa and a writing desk in the corner. A large Slytherin standard hung above a fireplace in which crackled a small fire. The floor was bare stone and well spaced torches lit the space. It was rather dark, however, despite the torchlight. It felt as if the darkness came from another, slightly sinister source.

"It's his study," she replied, then pointed to a dark rectangular doorway. "And that's his bedroom."

Snape saw a flicker of torchlight reflect off the walls in the room. He bet it was just as gloomy as the study. He looked at the witch, who was staring at the doorway with glistening eyes. She looked haunted.

"I need you to tell me what you want, Hermione. You have to tell me what he's like so I can better act the part," the Transfiguration teacher informed her.

Hermione slowly turned her gaze from the doorway to rest upon the wizard.

"What he's like?" she asked rather hollowly, her eyes vacuous as she looked at him.

It was easy to see she was quite affected by his counterpart, and Snape wasn't sure that it was in a good way. What had happened between them to make her react this way? To be so thrown off her game?

"Yes. What he's like," Snape urged. "And what you hope to do here. I need to understand."

"He was a Slytherin. Rather dark and cold in his way. He didn't smile and he talked very quietly," Hermione said.

"How was he intimately?" Snape pressed.

"Selfish. Thoughtless. Brutal. It was all about him," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "He made me feel as if he believed he owned me, and—and that I was nothing more than—than dirt."

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"Dirt?" he repeated, surprised.

She nodded.

"He didn't understand me. Where I came from. The rules were different there. He wanted me to be monogamous and deal only with him. He was—jealous. It's silly, but he was. And I told him what I would tell anyone—that I could be with who I wanted anytime I wanted. He didn't take that well. I wasn't with anyone else, but that didn't matter to him at all. When I came to him—he—treated me like I had no feelings, no emotions, no nerve endings. I've had rough sex before, but—nothing like this. I always had a feeling of being appreciated, as if everything was mutual. Not with him. With him, I was just a series of warm, wet holes to stick his cock in over and over—"

Hermione's eyes were on the floor and her lower lip trembled.

"He made me feel dirty for being who I was—for being myself. I never felt like that before. Then, when I came back here and all the teachers wanted me to start my extra credit and do—do—"

"Just tell me what you want now, Hermione. Do you really want to relive that again?" Snape asked her softly.

He didn't like this. His counterpart was an animal. Sex wasn't supposed to be that way. Even sexual domination had its limits and the act was mutual between partners. It seemed in Hermione's case, it hadn't been. She had been abused and mistreated in the worst way, simply because her outlook was different from his counterpart. He felt himself getting angry, but it was an impotent anger. There was no way to get back at his alternate self.

"No. That's not what I want, exactly. I mean, I want you to act like him, but—but be kinder. Treat me better, show some appreciation—"

"So you want a happy ending?" Snape asked her quietly.

"Just a better one, something to replace what I have. Something that's reciprocal. He didn't let me do anything. He didn't want me to. He just wanted his way. I didn't get a chance to show him anything. He didn't kiss me once. There wasn't a single tender touch. Nothing, professor. And that's stayed with me. It's like he's taken more than my body, it's like he's stolen part of who I am. I want it back."

"You're going to have to show me," Snape said to her softly.

Hermione shuddered.

"No. I can't," she said, shaking her head.

"You have to if you want closure. I need to know what he did to you, so I know what to do to you, or how to do it rather. You've given me quite the list, Hermione. If I'm going to incorporate all of that, then I need to know more intimate details. I'm going to get a Pensieve. Legilimency is too painful. Wait here."

The door reformed and Snape walked through it.

Hermione sighed and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. Yes, he would have to see for himself.

* * *

Snape viewed Hermione's night with his counterpart, feeling a mixture of awe, revulsion, and amazement at the wizard's brutality and stamina. Not only had he had his way with the Slytherin physically, but the verbal abuse was horrible. At least he had stopped to apply a Lubris spell on her. He was like a machine or golem in the way he'd gone at the witch, tireless, forceful, taking great pleasure in dragging her about by her hair and folding her into submissive positions and pounding her with all his strength. That Snape was a thinner man than he, but in the cock department, he was just as well hung. He was also covered in scars, particularly his back. Someone had scourged him terribly.

Snape came out of the Pensieve, placed it on the small table between the armchairs and looked at Hermione, whose eyes rested on the floor. Gods, what she had gone through was both horrible, but arousing. Part of Snape enjoyed seeing her get what for, but it was a very small part of him, most likely due to her disrespect and mistreatment over the years. If he had felt a small need for vengeance during their time together, it was completely quelled. Hermione Granger had been through the wringer, and seeing himself do it was disturbing.

"Your counterpart made her world sound non-violent for the most part," he said to Hermione softly. "But what I've seen tonight is one of the most violent acts I've ever witnessed. I am nothing like him. He's an animal. I'm sorry."

Hermione looked into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

"I think—I think something awful was happening to him. You saw all the scars. Torture isn't supposed to be part of that world. It's frowned on. But it's clear he'd been tortured. He wouldn't say anything about how he got those scars. I don't think he did witches much. He wasn't very attractive on that side. Maybe—maybe that's why he was so—"

"Don't make excuses for him. Although the night was consensual, it was clear you had no choice once the doors were closed. You didn't engage him in the usual reciprocal manner sexual encounters are supposed to entail. Did you get any pleasure from this at all?"

Hermione shifted in the chair uncomfortably, not wanting to answer him.

Snape's black eyes rested on her consideringly.

"You did get something out of it, didn't you? For the first time in your life, Hermione Granger, you weren't in control. You were at someone else's mercy, and he had none, much like you here. You're known for your brutality to others as well. In that world, the tables were turned on you. This man didn't adore you, didn't place you on a pedestal. In fact, he browbeat you and dragged you through the dirt. You learned what it is to be helpless—"

Snape realized that his counterpart's actions were most likely the catalyst that caused Hermione to rebel against the system here when she returned. She was still affected by his treatment when the teachers began demanding she resume her "extra credit" work, which consisted of sexual favors. She was in no state to engage them and felt pressured and resentful. And that's what set the entire boycott in motion, with a little prompting on Snape's part.

The alternate Snape had been a cruel bastard, but some good had come out of it.

"I think I know how to go about this," Snape said. "I can reenact your night, but temper it. It's clear to me, Hermione, that despite your dominant nature, you have something of the submissive in you sexually."

Hermione's eyes went hard immediately.

"Submissive? I'm not a Sub, professor. I never have been," she snarled at him, angry now.

Snape cocked his head at her.

"I think that depends on whom you're engaging, Hermione. I couldn't help but notice that despite my counterpart's brutality, and the pain you had to feel at some points, you simply screamed. But, you never screamed 'stop.' There were a few half-hearted 'no's' and 'pleases' but no full out 'stops.' For this night to serve its purpose, you're going to have to be a sub. The safe word will be—'Daddy.'"

Hermione looked at Snape. His eyes were rather hard now. He'd made his decision on how this was going to go, and he looked so much like Slytherin Snape, her belly flipped over.

"Daddy?" she repeated, her anger melting away.

"Yes. Daddy," Snape reiterated, rising up out of the armchair and holding out one pale hand. "Now, hand over your wand. I won't have you blasting me. Give it here."

Snape spoke very softly, like his counterpart. He noticed his counterpart never once raised his voice, but punctuated his commands with hisses and growls rather than shouts. It made what he'd done to her even more brutal in its way, that deceptive soft voice cursing her as he pounded her. He sounded like a lover even as he acted the monster.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her robes pocket and placed it into his hand. Snape very slowly curled his fingers around it, Hermione watching as he took away her main protection. He turned and exited the room for a moment, returning to his usual form as he locked her wand away, then he returned to the pseudo-study, closing the door behind him. He stopped in the middle of the room. Hermione was looking at him over the top of the armchair.

"Don't sit there gawking at me, you silly chit. You're here for a purpose, and that purpose is to please me. Get over here, now," he hissed at her, his eyes narrowed.

Hermione blinked at him.

"Don't make me come to you, witch," he said with deceptive softness. "I'm not going to tell you again."

Hermione didn't move. She wanted to see if the Transfiguration teacher had really gotten the gist of the alternate Severus Snape.

Suddenly, the wizard strode around the chair and caught a hank of her hair, pulling her up out of her seat, his eyes glittering.

"I told you to move," Snape hissed, his face close to hers, his expression dangerous.

Then he roughly kissed her, still clutching her hair and using it to hold her steady as he invaded her hot, sweet mouth with his tongue. It was heaven to the wizard, but he couldn't show that. All he could do was enjoy this.

He broke the kiss, Hermione gasping from the passion of it. Then he wrenched her head around lightly by the hair.

"You will either listen to me or pay the price," he breathed, yanking her hard against his body with his other arm. She could feel his rock hard erection clearly through his robes and briefs. The wizard pressed it into her lower belly, rolling his pelvis slightly.

"And even with your cooperation, Hermione, there is still a price," he added, capturing her mouth again.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	51. A Bit of Foreplay

**Chapter 52 ~ A Bit of Foreplay**

The alternate Snape never once kissed her during their interaction, so the passionate claiming of her mouth by this Snape was very welcomed and made her feel his desire in a more intimate, acceptable manner. But he held her tightly as he kissed her, making sure she knew he was the one controlling this encounter.

Snape pulled back from her mouth, then released her, backing toward the sofa. He sat down, his eyes slowly and purposely drifting over her body. He leaned back against the sofa, sliding downward a bit, slumping slightly. He began to slowly unfasten the front of his robes, his pale fingers slowly undoing the fasteners. The imprint of his cock was visible, the black fabric falling around it, showing a thick, sausage-like bulge. Hermione's brown eyes rested on it for a moment. She was flushed and already hot. What was he doing? Why was he on the couch rather than on her?

"Strip for me," Strip hissed at her. "Take off every stitch of your clothing, Hermione. Everything. I want to see the hot little body I'm going to ride like a broom. Do it slowly. I've waited a long time for this."

Hermione blinked at him, rather stunned at his pronouncement.

In normal instances of extra credit, teachers were forbidden to make any remarks that could be deemed as personal or too intimate. They weren't permitted for example to comment on a student's body in any manner, or make overtly sexual comments despite the intimacy occurring. Comments on tightness, wetness or any other pleasurable aspects were not allowed, nor were comments about personal desire. When Snape had taken the alternate Hermione's virginity, it was by the book. He made no comments except to say at the end it had been pleasurable. That was permitted

Snape's dark eyes rested on her, and he smirked slightly, continuing to unbutton his robes.

"As an aside, Hermione, since this is a role-play situation I am permitted to express personal interest and appreciation for you in any manner I chose as long as it could possibly fall within the boundaries of my character fulfilling your needs," he purred at her. "It serves to make the fantasy more 'real' for both of us, therefore is acceptable. Now, get naked. I will not break character again."

Hermione began to unbutton her robes, her brown eyes resting on the wizard. His thin, pale chest was showing as he continued opening his own robes. Suddenly, he flickered, looking as himself for a second before returning to the leaner, more damaged Severus.

Hermione paused for a moment, then pulled her robes open, revealing her school uniform beneath. She felt very naughty although she'd worn much more provocative clothing. It was because of what Snape had said, that he had waited for this for a long time. Role play or not, it felt as if what he said came from his own desire, not that of the character he was playing. So, it was wrong, and the wrongness, the illicitness of those words served as a turn on to the witch. As if she were about to do something she shouldn't. Break a taboo.

Few things were as hot as breaking taboos. She let the robes slip down her arms and to the floor. Snape sat slumped on the couch, his robes open, his transfigured body visible, one hand underneath the dingy briefs, fondling his still hidden erection as he watched her, his nostrils flared. Well, it wasn't exactly hidden. There was no way to hide that much meat. It was covered in very stretched cotton fabric that was so sheer from usage that hardly anything was left to the imagination.

"Take it off," he breathed. "Take it all off, witch."

Hermione unbuttoned her blouse and Snape shifted upward, sitting up straight now, his eyes falling on the lacy green bra and full breasts within, his black eyes glittering as he slowly fisted the shaft of his cock through his briefs with long slow strokes. He looked as if he were ready to pounce on Hermione, who gave him a little crooked smile as she slid off her blouse.

"Yesssss," Snape hissed as she hooked her thumbs into her short plaid skirt and swaying slightly, lowered it over her thighs, revealing her green thong.

"Stop! Turn around and pull the skirt down," Snape ordered, a little rasp in his voice as he watched the Slytherin reveal herself for him.

Hermione slowly turned, bending slightly as she wriggled out of her skirt, her smooth, plump buttocks falling into view. She heard Snape hiss and looked over her shoulder to see he had his cock out now, long, proud and strong, the foreskin shifting back and forth, covering and uncovering the glistening fat head as he slowly fisted himself.

"Beautiful," he said softly as she stepped out of the skirt and kicked it away. She straightened and swayed her arse sexily, giving him a real show.

"My gods. Turn around, Hermione," Snape croaked.

Hermione did so, feeling some of her old power restored as she looked at the wizard. His face was contorted with lust and he stopped fisting himself.

"The trainers and socks," he ordered, watching as Hermione removed them, showing pretty feet and green painted toes. In her green bra and knickers it was easy to see she was Slytherin down to the last detail.

"Remove your bra," Snape said, his eyes narrowed.

Hermione obediently reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, drawing it slowly down her arms and removing it, dropping it to the floor, revealing her round, dark-tripped breasts. Her nipples were hardened into tight buds of desire.

"Play with them. Caress them. Slap them."

Hermione closed her eyes and began caressing her breasts, so turned on she could scent herself. She squeezed the full mounds, pinching the nipples, leaning forward and shaking them so they bumped together. She heard Snape groaned and looked at him through her lashes. He was just leaning back on the sofa, his erection standing up on its own, looking like a thick pale dew-tipped mast reaching for the sun. It throbbed slightly.

"Now, put two fingers into your mouth and wet them," he told her.

Hermione did as he asked, slowly sliding her forefinger and middle finger into her mouth and wetting them, having an idea what he was going to ask her to do.

"Now, slip them into your thong and play with your pussy for me," Snape growled. "Tickle that tight little twat, Hermione. Make it good. I want to smell you. I'm sure your scent is as delicious as your body."

Hermione snaked her hand down between her breasts, over her belly and under the string of her thong, letting out a little "ooh" as her wet fingers connected, spreading even more lubrication over her already soaked core. She began to rub, shifting her hips, her eyes slitting like those of a cat as Snape watched her, seeming mesmerized, lost to his own fantasy of finally having Hermione within his grasp. What a hot little witch she was, hotter than any other student he serviced. There were other lovely ones of course, but desire will make one particular witch special whereas all the rest seemed to run together.

As he watched her work her fingers, her body undulating, little beads of perspiration appearing on her forehead and the scent of her filling the study like a heady, musky perfume, Severus Tobias Snape knew that Hermione Granger would never fade into the ranks of female students, never merge into a the sea of mundane and ordinary.

Not for him.

A small pulse of guilt rose within the wizard, but was quickly squelched as Hermione let out a purring sigh, her eyes rolling up in her head as she gave herself a small orgasm. Snape wasted no time jumping up from the couch and striding to her, roughly grabbing the witch and carrying her to the sofa, tossing her down on her back and grasping her legs, pushing them up so she was nearly doubled over, crossing and catching her ankles in one hand and holding them upward as he pulled her thong aside and plunged his tongue deep inside Hermione, penetrating her hot core, before he began tenderly licking up her juices, running his tongue around and over her clit as Hermione gasped with pleasure at his skill.

He studied the pretty little landing strip and the swollen, pink tip

"Such a pretty pussy," he breathed, blowing his warm breath over it before licking the creases around her labia, catching the overflow, the taste and scent of the witch working him toward near madness.

"Slow down," he told himself as he felt her grasp his shoulder in reaction. He released her legs, but remained between them, licking and kissing her thighs as she purred, rocking her pelvis and pushing his head down. He pulled back from her core.

"Grab my shoulders and hold on, witch," he hissed at her.

Hermione let out a shriek as he grasped and lifted her, standing straight up. Her core was still at his face and he held her aloft, Hermione hanging on for dear life as he held her by the waist, continuing his worship of her sex. Hermione had never been put in this kind of position in her life by anyone and it was amazing. Snape was so strong and so good—

"Bloody fucking Baron," she hissed, her head falling back.

Snape's appearance flickered again between the wizard he was pretending to be and who he was truly was. He was aware of the flicker and what it meant. It meant he was getting to the witch. Him, not the memory of his counterpart.

He let her slide downward, Hermione's legs hooking over his arms as he stared at her, face to face, then deliberately kissed her deeply, running his tongue around her heated mouth, coating it with the flavor of her own juices as he caressed her body hungrily, pressing his exposed cock into her heat and thrusting lightly so it ran over her clit. Hermione's body was on fire, her senses whirling.

Snape was the first wizard in her world that indulged her this way. Her dealings with Tom had been all fellatio, and he was quite gentle, preferring to receive than to force himself. He felt she were worshipping him that way. Tom had issues. Ron and Harry were good, but they were young and anxious. Boys, not fully men yet. And Snape of the alternate universe could hardly be considered a lover by his performance. But this, this was something different. And to think, if she had only given him a chance.

She shuddered as a particularly sweet, sharp sensation fluttered through her because of his rubbing and nearly sobbed at how good it felt. Fluids covered the wizard's organ, making it shine as the mixed scent of their arousal wafted between them, adding to their lust. Snape walked with her over to the closest book-covered wall and adjusted her so her buttocks rested on the edge of one of the shelves. She was the perfect height for penetration, but he wanted to taste her skin and get his mouth around those luscious breasts. Nearly snarling, the wizard went at her hard, all hands, mouth and lips, slipping one talented hand between her thighs and once again assaulting her most sensitive parts, pausing only for air and to suckle her flavor from his fingers or to smear her own juices on her lips, then suckle them off.

Snape was very into Hermione Granger. And as she orgasmed around his fingers, arching back, his soft mouth wrapped around her nipple, the supple tongue tapping it lightly, sending pulses of pleasure radiating outward, Hermione Granger's sensation soaked mind and body was aware she was into him as well.

"It's time to start fucking you, Hermione" the wizard hissed. "And I plan to do it long, hard, deep and unforgettably."

"Oh my gods," Hermione gasped as she felt him draw back and rested the hot, hard head of his cock against her core.

"Give it here, witch!" Snape snarled, driving through the Hermione's slick, tight orifice and filling her to the hilt, his eyes fluttering with pleasure as he drove home for the first time, coming to rest against her cervix. Hermione let out a cry at his strength as he held himself steady and once again claimed her mouth with his own, submerged in her bliss, lost to the tight, throbbing sleeve wrapped around him.

* * *

A/N: Short foreplay chapter, I know. But I'm working at it, ya'll. Thanks for reading.


	52. Playing the Role

**Chapter 52 ~ Playing the Role**

Professor and student kissed hungrily, Snape buried inside Hermione, her thighs draped over his arms and body open to him like a beautiful flower. He began to stroke her, gently at first, the hot warmth of her soft flesh, gripping and pulling at him as he returned to her again and again. Hermione moaned, then sent a ripple down his shaft that made the wizard gasp and break their kiss, his face contorted.

"Orgasm balls?" he asked her, licking his lips.

"Jade eggs," she answered him softly.

"My gods," the wizard said, pressing his face into her shoulder, thrusting deep inside her, Hermione rewarding him with another tight ripple, this time up and down his thick length. He began to move faster, hitting Hermione with more power, the witch crying out as he pulled her away from the wall and stood with her, lifting her body and letting her weight drop her back down on his stiff, glistening member.

"Yes, Hermione—ugh—yes! So wet, so tight—give it—"

The Transfiguration teacher tore into Hermione as if he'd gone mad, squelching through her slickness, his robes beginning to stick to his body from perspiration as he fed his lust and longing. Still, he wasn't brutal, just very, very thorough.

Hermione's head fell back, her mouth open, eyes closed in bliss, the professor's dark eyes watching her surrender as he took her to the heights, adding his own thrust, driving deep into her core. Suddenly she tightened around him, her head snapping forward and her eyes ablaze.

"You're so fucking good!" she gasped before burying her face against his throat and orgasming, her juices running down over his cock. Snape felt his heart swell at her words and ran with Hermione to the sofa and quickly laid her on her back, diving back headfirst between her legs, wrapping his arms around her thighs to hold her in place, his tongue lashing her undulating body as he collected her gift again. She was too delicious to let any part of her go to waste. He suckled, licked at and kissed her core as if it were another hot mouth to part and explore. Hermione was barely lucid under the rush of soft, supple pleasuring that followed his hard, this-side-of-brutal possession.

But Snape eventually remembered his character and immediately stood up, shrugged his damp robes off his shoulders, stepped out of the dingy gray briefs wrapped around his calves and caught Hermione by her hair. He pulled her up to a sitting position as he sat down on the sofa, still holding on firmly to her locks, his legs gapped wide and glistening cock standing at attention.

Hermione's eyes were hot and dazed. They went a bit cross-eyed as she stared at his erection. Snape leaned back against the arm of the chair, pulling her forward gently but with purpose. He was much gentler than his counterpart, but equally demanding.  
Hermione was drawn forward, now on her knees, hovering over that huge, shining cock. He still had her hair gathered in his fist and he tugged on it a little.

"You know what to do, witch," Snape hissed at her, his eyes hot in anticipation of those soft full lips wrapped around him. "Show me your skills. Show me how good you are."

Hermione looked up at Snape, and for an instant, he flashed from the dark illusion of the Potions master, the gaunt, harsh face and lank hair, to the more attractive, sexually reciprocal counterpart, then back again. It did nothing to dampen the witch's lust for him, however. In fact, the quick stutter of magic excited her even more.

Slowly she wrapped her hand around the based of Snape's cock, the wizard sighing and letting his hand drop away from her hair as she leaned over him and let a slow string of saliva drip from between her lips, landing on the head of his cock. Snape made a sound as he watched her, then closed his eyes as she slowly slid his foreskin up to cover his shaft and head and tweaked it, then caught the flesh-covered head of his cock and twisted slightly, turning the skin, Snape's thighs trembling at the sensation before she slowly drew it back down, the thick glans lubricated with her spit. Then she lightly slapped it, Snape gasping as she looked at him with a wicked smirk and did it again.

"Shit!" Snape hissed, turned on by the small, naughty mistreatment of his tool. No student had ever slapped it before. Hermione purposely wet her index finger with her mouth, then slid her other hand down his shaft now, cupping his balls with her palm and using her wet forefinger to tickle his perineum, the small stretch of skin between his scrotum and anus. He began to pant as she expertly manipulated him, covering his cock with her soft mouth at the same time.

Shit, the witch truly knew what she was doing. Hermione swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, using her tongue to tap the two sensitive points just beneath the flute before applying gentle suction, beginning to bob, sliding her mouth over that massive staff. She could taste his pre-cum, seeping out from his arousal and excitement.

"Yesssss," Snape breathed, letting his head fall back and letting this marvelous head job happen. Hermione slid her finger to his anus and pressed, running the tip around the edge of it.  
Fuck.

"You gifted little Slytherin," Snape hissed, smoothing her hair and capturing it in his fist, beginning to thrust a bit. "Deeper—take me deeper, Hermione."

Hermione did, relaxing her throat and taking him down a ways, engulfing his cock and making gulping sounds as she moved faster and faster. Snape helped her, gagging her a bit, but stopping long enough so she could recover. It was what his counterpart had done, but as he did so, he caressed her, praised her and encouraged her, giving her the hurt/comfort aspect that she craved, but in a controlled manner, the epitome of the perfect dominator.

In turn, Hermione worshipped his cock, easily giving the Transfiguration teacher one of the best blow jobs he'd ever had. And he'd had a lot of them, given by both witches and wizards. Hermione used her mouth like a trained instrument, lips, teeth and tongue all playing a part in the symphony of Fellatio she was laying on the wizard. Snape flipped her over to her back and straddled her face, taking over, burying his cock in her mouth, holding her nose for a second or two, making her cough a bit. But the look in her eyes told him his approach was working. He gave her a bit of a break, spitting between her breasts then fucking them with abandon, his illusion continuing to flicker back and forth between the Severus Snape of the alternate universe and himself.

Hermione stared up at the wizard, his pale, thin body, the grimace of pleasure on his face as he bunched her breasts around his cock and drew it back and forth between them, her skin slick with saliva and his leakage. Suddenly he jerked and he stopped moving, breathing heavily, his head dropping and hair curtaining his face. He was very still and slowly released her breasts, his cock literally throbbing against her as he fought the powerful urge to climax, his eyes squeezed shut as he silently counted down from twenty.

After a minute, he climbed off of her and stood up, catching her roughly by the wrist and pulling her up from the sofa and against his body, capturing her mouth in another deep, sensual kiss, breathing in the scent of her. So, primal, so female.

"Time for bed, Hermione," he growled against her lips, then started walking toward the bedroom, pulling her roughly behind him, focusing on the next part of the journey. There was much more to do extra credit-wise, some things involving whipped cream and cherries, bondage and other delightfully naughty games, but the Transfiguration teacher wanted to first exorcise this demon from the witch. Perhaps, after the first round was over and she received her much-needed closure, she'd accept him as he was and not as his counterpart for the rest of the night.

It all depended on how thorough he was in his role.

And thorough he was as he slung Hermione in the bed and leapt on top of her, much in the way the Potions master had. He soon had Hermione crying out, struggling but not giving him the safe word. He bent and twisted her just as ardently as the Potions master had, but with much more delight and praise. He didn't verbally abuse you but expressed true delight in how she gave herself to him, and how strong she was. Let there be no doubt about it, Hermione Granger was a strong witch and could take as well as give a pounding. He gave her a chance to go for hers, something his counterpart didn't do, to his detriment, because she had just as brutal and hungry a nature as he did. There was quite a bit of face and chest slapping going on as she rode him like a cowgirl on a wildly bucking bronco. This Snape might not like wet bed sheets, but his entire bed was soaked from their frenzied couplings. She even spanked him back when she got the chance, both sets of cheeks reddened as they pumped and jiggled and battled for dominance.

Snape's hair was plastered to his head, and Hermione sported nothing but ringlets as they rode, mouths and bodies locked in a rhythmic thrust and grind toward ecstasy, Snape letting out an anguished howl as Hermione's nails raked across his back. He ejaculated strongly, come splashing around their connection as he strained to press every pulsing inch of his cock inside the climaxing witch. He was in his own form by the end of their first round, his pale, unscarred body finding the witch's sweet spot again and again, Hermione feeling as if she were going to die from pleasure.

It would be one of the better ways to go.

Snape dropped heavily on top of her. They had finished in standard missionary position, except he had one arm wrapped around one of her thighs and her leg drawn against her chest. He released her leg, and kissed her once more, letting out a long breath before rolling off the witch.

Hermione lay on her back, covered in sweat, her skin gleaming, her hair almost as dark as Snape from wetness. Her breasts rose and fell heavily as he lay beside her, looking at her profile. She didn't have a lick of make-up left but she was still so beautiful.

Hermione turned to look at her Transfiguration teacher. Her eyes were thoughtful.

"You're a decent fuck, professor. I wouldn't have believed it. I guess you really can't tell the potency of a potion by its label," she said a bit breathlessly.

Actually, Hermione was highly impressed, but she was still a Slytherin. She wasn't about to tell a Gryffindor he was the best lay she ever had.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her.

"So, did you receive the closure you required to move past my counterpart's abysmal treatment of your charms? And believe me, Hermione, you have charms. The man was a fool to have denied himself such pleasure because of his selfishness," he said softly.

Hermione blinked at him.

"You really think that?" she asked him.

Snape could discern just a bit of vulnerability in her voice. She needed reassurance.

"Yes, I do. Any man would be a fool to abuse a witch like you," he said, feeling awkward and guilty at telling a student this.

"You're not supposed to do pillow talk, professor. I could get you sacked," she told him, frowning slightly.

"Yes, but then, you wouldn't be able to do extra credit with me for the rest of the year," he responded with a smile.

Hermione tried to scowl at him, then she laughed despite herself.

"Well, I should have at least one teacher for non-written extra credit," she admitted. "It's going to take a while getting used to doing paperwork. I bet the teachers pile it on, too, whenever they give in."

"You students will be able to negotiate if you put your minds to it, Hermione. Remember, they're going to have to grade all that paperwork, and fairly."

"Still, I should have something familiar . . . just so I don't get nostalgic or anything," she said, rolling to face him now, resting on her elbow as she studied him.

"You lost your illusion near the end," she said softly. She idly ran a finger through his damp hair.

He nodded.

"Apparently, you no longer needed the illusion," he replied softly. "The ROR always provides what you need."

Hermione continued to study him.

"You kept flickering the entire time. I suppose the room thought I needed you, not him."

Snape smirked.

"The ROR doesn't think. It just magically adjusts to suit the user's needs. You are the one who thought you didn't need him. You accepted me as I am."

Hermione didn't say anything. She just continued to look at him, her brown eyes sweeping down his long, pale, unmarked body. He really was more attractive than dark Snape, and a better lover. Much better.

Suddenly the room fuzzed into the wizard's bedroom, the role-playing portion of their night together over with. But there were still a lot of things to do. Sexy things.

Suddenly, there was a tinging sound. It was Snape's magic mirror. Triska was calling to see how his night was going with the Slytherin witch. He hadn't come to her flat this weekend in preparation for his time with Hermione. She thought that a bit odd, and a bit out of character. He usually didn't do students on weekends. When he told her Hermione was a special case, she felt a slight flicker of jealousy, which was neither good nor normal in a free society. The witch stared at her own reflection, waiting for him to pick up. He always picked up, even if he were actively engaging a student.

Snape lay there, unmoving as the mirror tinged relentlessly.

Finally Hermione asked him, "Aren't you going to get that?"

Snape looked toward the mirror on the dresser for a moment then back at her, feeling his cock throb a bit.

"No. Let it ring. We still have points to issue," he purred, rolling over on the witch again. Hermione let out a giggling shriek in response to his attack before his mouth covered hers.

Triska let the mirror ring for almost fifteen minutes before finally giving up.

* * *

A/N: Nice night. :) So, Severus didn't pick up the mirror this time. Lol. Thanks for reading. ***


	53. Hermione Does Her Homework

**Chapter 53 ~ Hermione Does Her Homework**

A week after giving Hermione her assignment of clandestinely gathering information that would assist him in setting up and getting his apothecary shop off the ground, Snape received a rather light, stuttering knock on his office door. It was Friday evening, and he was finishing marking the usual dismal offerings of his Potions class. He looked up, frowning.

"Who is it?" he snarled, irritated at being interrupted.

"It's Hermione Granger, professor," Hermione's muffled voice responded.

"Well, come in then," he said, putting down his quill and frowning at the door.

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? Simply turn the knob. The door isn't locked or warded."

"I can't."

Snape sighed, stood up, stalked around his desk and ripped the door open.

Hermione stood there, balancing an armload of books that formed a loose stack and teetered precariously. Snape blinked at her.

"I suppose a minimizing spell didn't cross your mind, Miss Granger," he said to the witch.

Hermione tottered through the door. She was so excited, she hadn't even thought about it. She loved lugging books around. She found the weight of them comforting, as if she could just feel the ton of knowledge each tome contained. She was a strange little witch.

Normally, she'd be on her Head girl rounds, but she pawned them off on a prefect. She was in charge of them, so asserted her authority and right to skive off. She'd been doing that a lot lately.

Hermione set the books on Snape's desk with a clunk, covering up the parchments he was marking as they toppled over, sliding across his desk and spilling his ink bottle in his good swivel chair.

"Oops, sorry about that, professor," she said sheepishly, quickly separating the books into proper piles according to topic.

Snape rolled his eyes. Good help was so hard to find. He walked back around his desk; Scourgified the mess, then looked down at the books as Hermione dusted off her hands and said, "There."

"There? What is this, Miss Granger? Are you starting a library?"

She nodded.

"A business library. This is some light reading for you to do, professor. This pile is about the laws of buying and selling potions ingredients in wizarding England. Which ones are illegal and which are not, the penalties involved, that sort of thing—this pile is about writing a feasible business plan to acquire funding for your business—"

Snape scowled at her.

"I don't need to acquire funding. I am rich, Miss Granger," he told her pointedly.

"I know you are, professor, but you want to establish credit. You can't do that if you just use your own money. Running a business requires more than just emptying your vaults. There's a proper way to go about it. Let the banks finance you. They will, because you have money. And if you have losses, there's ways to avoid paying it all back so you don't lose your own money. It's just good business, sir."

Snape blinked at her.

"And you're going to have to incorporate. It's all in there," she added. "You're going to need a solicitor to handle the business aspects. I have a list of good ones for you to look over. Now, these books are directories for potions suppliers. I've researched a lot of them. The larger suppliers will have cheaper ingredients, but the potency and quality will vary. The smaller suppliers and farmers are more expensive, but the quality of the ingredients are better. I have directories for those that provide specialized ingredients in animal, mineral and plant forms. Spores and Fungus too. The ones that sound promising are highlighted in yellow in each directory."

Snape just listened to her babble on, staring at all the books.

"This pile lists of all the new suppliers for apothecary shops. Not just ingredient suppliers, but ones who provide cauldrons, mortars, distilleries, items of that type. Many of them are looking for investors. I've checked out the growth of the best ones and highlighted them as well. You might want to invest in some of these businesses—not only could you make money but more than likely you will be able to purchase supplies at a discount. You should sell items like these in your shop as well to offer your customers a variety of potions related items, not just potions."

Snape couldn't help but notice the excited flush on the witch's face. She was really into this. He cocked his head at her as she fanned out a stack of magazines. Hermione blathered on.

"These are 'Apothecary Weekly' magazines. They tell of the latest potions developments, what ingredients and potions are most in demand in today's market and feature the best apothecary shops in the wizarding world today. I figured we could peruse their setups and emulate the best ones, combining the best features of each. Some have cold rooms for example, to keep perishable ingredients longer. And these books are about keeping inventory. It's not much, but it's a start. You should find them very helpful."

She pulled a pink folder out from the bottom of one of the piles and handed it to the professor.

"That's just a summary I put together describing the steps you need to take to set up the shop, and an alphabetized listing of the books according to subject matter with a little summary of each. I even put in the magazine articles to pay attention to the most."

Snape opened the folder, frowning at its color. The summary had a preface, table of contents and pages of neatly handwritten text consisting mostly of outlines. There had to be at least eighty pages. He looked at her incredulously.

"How in the world did you find time to do all of this in a week? This is your last year, Miss Granger. You have NEWTs at the end of term, which isn't that far off. While your zeal for your assignment is—commendable to say the least, you must attend to your studies."

Snape was thunderstruck actually. He had seen no decline in her homework, and he gave quite a bit of it to his seventh years in preparation for the NEWTs, the final examination given at Hogwarts. It was administered by the Wizarding Examination Authority and was tantamount to students getting into their chosen fields. Actually, seventh years had a plethora of assignments from all their professors and Hermione had nothing but classes. Not even a study period this quarter.

"Oh, don't worry, professor. My studies aren't suffering in the least. When you gave me access to your account, I didn't only purchase books—"

Hermione reached under her robes and produced a necklace on which hung an item that looked a bit like a gyroscope. Snape's eyes widened.

"A Time Turner?" he asked. Time Turners were pricey, and she hadn't asked his permission. Maybe he should rethink giving her access to his accounts. She might buy diamonds next.

Hermione nodded, but quickly added, "But it's an inexpensive one. It has a twelve hour limit on it. I can't go back in time a full day, so I have to schedule carefully in order to use it."

Still, Snape scowled at her.

"Next time, I expect you to consult me before making any outside purchases," Snape griped, sitting down now and looking at the books again.

"This is not an outside purchase," Hermione said indignantly. Snape's black eyes glittered at her perceived insubordination. "I needed it in order to do the best job I could do for you. When I'm done, I'll—I'll give it back!"

Snape didn't reply. Fine, give it back. He looked at the piles of books. Hermione was right. They were required reading, but with the NEWTs coming up, how would he find time to do this and handle his classes?

"I appreciate what you've done so far, Miss Granger, but I really don't have the time to study all this," the Potions master said.

Hermione slowly reached into her pocket and pulled something out. She let it dangle. It was another Time Turner, a more expensive one.

"I got this for you," she said hesitatingly. "It goes back a week maximum."

She nervously handed the necklace to Snape, who studied it for a moment before looking up at the witch She held her breath, ready for another cutting remark about her spending his money recklessly.

"You really are a wonder, Hermione Granger," Snape said softly.

Hermione flushed with pleasure at his praise. Professor Snape rarely gave it out.

"Just be careful about paradox, especially when you first use it. There are stories about wizards wiping themselves out when they walk in on each other. They usually duel, believing the other to be an imposter. You might want to wait a week before using it, that way, if you do walk in on yourself, you'll have knowledge of the Turner and won't go into attack mode."

"I'll keep that in mind, Miss Granger," Snape said, slipping the Time Turner over his neck and tucking it under his robes.

Hermione yawned and sat down in the rickety chair before his desk. The Potions master noticed now that she looked very tired.

He studied Hermione as she rubbed her eyes and blinked, the brown orbs resting on him. She had continued to wear make-up, but not much of it. She had grown up a bit because of her experience in the alternate world and made some effort to look more attractive. There was nothing wrong with it after all. She wasn't glamorous, but it was a noticeable change.

The young wizards at Hogwarts noticed the change as well as the witches. Draco became brooding every time he saw her, although he'd learned his lesson about harassing her. But, Hermione was even worse than before as far as her focus went. Harry and Ron were totally left out in the cold now as she worked on both her class studies and Snape's assignments. But she still took out the time to give them weekly study schedules that always made them groan. Hermione hadn't told them about the Time Turner either, and the wizards were often startled to find her someplace else in the castle when they had just left her in another area. When they tried to ask her about it, she'd reply, "Too busy to talk now. Things to do," and run off, a bunch of books in her arms.

"I don't know how she bloody does it," Ron would say with a low whistle. "She's everywhere."

Harry would just blink after her, swearing Hermione's brain was just going to blow up one day like an overworked Muggle engine. But, no matter how much her appearance had changed, Hermione was still an untouchable as far as asking her out. She had no time and no inclination to spend any time with anyone . . . the exception being one dungeon-dwelling wizard twice her age with a dream.

"You look tired, Miss Granger. I would normally suggest a bit of Pepper-up potion, but in your case, I think sleep is in order," Snape said curtly. "You should go."

"Could I just sit here and rest my eyes for a moment?" she asked him.

Before encountering her counterpart, Snape would have booted Hermione out of his office without hesitation. Whether it was because of the alternate Hermione, or all the work she had done for him, Snape let her sit there.

"For a minute or two, Miss Granger," he replied, picking up his quill and starting in on the parchments. "Then you must return to Gryffindor tower."

He became absorbed in his marking. After about twenty minutes, a little snore startled him and he looked up to see Hermione slumped in the chair, her head tilted back, completely and unequivocally asleep.

"Oh good gravy," the wizard swore, looking at the witch, his nose wrinkled. "Miss Granger. Miss Granger! Wake up!"

Hermione didn't respond. Snape set his quill down in exasperation. How tired was the witch that she didn't respond to him? He stood up, walked around the desk, studied the sleeping witch then grasped her shoulder, shaking her.

She snurfled, her head rocking back and forth before she flailed her hands at him.

"Five more minutes, mum," she breathed, then snored again.

Now she was leaning dangerously in the chair, about to fall off it. Snape thought about letting her fall. He could Ennervate her, but it was a horrible spell to use on someone who was truly asleep. It was meant to bring someone out of unconsciousness. Terrible headaches could result rousing a body that didn't want to be roused.

Snape sighed and looked at the clock. It was twenty to ten. He must have been very absorbed in his marking. He looked back at Hermione, his dark eyes drifting over her robes and the curves beneath them. He felt a small response, most likely because of her counterpart. But still, what was he to do with her? He couldn't just leave her in his office.

Snape stared down at the witch, then sighed again. He walked over to the wall that opened on his private rooms and pulled a torch. It slid open. He turned back to Hermione, walked over and carefully lifted the witch out of the chair, one arm supporting her thighs, the other supporting her back and shoulder. Hermione sighed and shifted in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling into him like a sleeping child. He stood there a moment as she nestled against him with a sigh and continued to sleep. She seemed quite comfortable this way, her warm breath curling against his throat. She must have eaten peppermint.

"I must be insane," the wizard said to himself, carrying the witch into his quarters and letting the wall close behind them.

"Totally insane."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	54. Sealing the Deal

**Chapter 54 ~ Sealing the Deal**

Snape stood in his study, his black eyes resting on the lumpy, threadbare green sofa. He'd given Hermione's counterpart quite the workout on that piece of furniture. Hermione shifted in his arms and he looked at her consideringly.

He could put her on the sofa. It had been Scourgified of fluids after all. She'd never know what dirty little acts he'd done on it. Hell, she was lucky he was willing to do that much. Her falling asleep like this was a terrible imposition. He could put her on the floor before the hearth—

The wizard scowled.

As inconvenient as this was, Hermione had worked hard for him, and most likely the reason she was so exhausted was because of that fact. The least he could do was provide her with a proper place to rest. Unfortunately for the Potions master, there was only one truly comfortable piece of furniture in his quarters.

His bed.

Which meant that Hermione's comfort would be his discomfort. He would have to either take the lumpy sofa himself, or one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. Frowning, he carried the witch into his bedroom. Bending carefully, he managed to pull the sheets back and carefully laid Hermione in his bed on her back. He studied her for a moment then removed her trainers and socks, tucking the socks into the trainers and setting them on the floor beside his four-poster. At least her feet would be comfortable.

He saw she wore jeans under her robes, but decided against removing her outer garments. Instead, he pulled the covers over her and stood there for several moments, just watching her breathe. His face was contorted slightly as he looked at the witch in his bed. She was alone, in his rooms. His mind shifted back to her night with his counterpart and he quickly billowed from the room, plopping down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace in his study, the flames reflected in his eyes as he brooded.

Starting and running an apothecary shop was going to be more difficult than he imagined. It appeared that he wouldn't be able to just brew potions and sell them. There was so much more to do. He could afford to fail, of course, but he would rather succeed. It would be a welcome change to build something successful from the ground up, something that not only satisfied his obsession with potions, but would bring returns. Hermione had done one hell of a job getting all the information he needed, circumventing the apothecary shops themselves. If it had been him, he would have been skulking about for months, spying.

It was what he was used to after all.

Apparently, Hermione had recognized the flaw in that plan. She was bookish after all, and believed books could provide all the answers for an inquisitive mind. In this case, she'd been right. Rather than waste time asking questions, she went directly to the source and compiled an amazing amount of truly helpful information in a very short period of time.

Snape's eyelids began to droop, and he twisted in the armchair slightly, trying to get more comfortable. His last thought was how brilliant Hermione Granger truly was.

* * *

The wizard awoke about three hours later. He roused, his body cramped and aching from the armchair. He needed to piss. Snape stood up, stretched out the kinks and quietly walked into his bedroom. He stopped when he saw Hermione lying on top of the covers, still asleep, but not in the condition of dress she was in when he placed her in the bed. .

The witch had wrestled off her robes and her jeans, and now lay dressed only in a pair of white cotton knickers and her bra and t-shirt, her brown hair wild around her head as she slept in a semi-fetal position, facing him.

Snape blinked at her, his eyes resting on her bare legs. He swallowed, then entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He opened the lower half of his robes, pulled down the front of his briefs and took out his slightly hardened cock. It seemed he had not been unaffected by Hermione's state of half-dress. Grimacing, he pissed, shook off, then flushed the loo. He rearranged his clothing, washed his hands and exited the bathroom, promising himself not to look at the witch again as he passed through.

He was almost out the door when he heard Hermione call him in a frightened little voice.

"Professor, what am I doing here?" the witch asked.

Snape turned to find Hermione sitting up in his bed, the covers drawn around her. Her jeans were still on the floor, however. She must have awakened when he flushed the loo, saw she was in an unfamiliar place and was half-dressed.

That realization must have made her heart race a little.

"You were sleeping," the Potion master replied. "You fell asleep in my office and refused to awaken. I might have thought you'd been slipped the Draught of the Dead potion if I didn't know better. Rather than Ennervate you, I simply put you to bed."

Hermione blinked at him, then asked in a small voice, "Did you—you remove my clothing?"

Snape's eyes glittered wickedly. He couldn't help himself.

"Miss Granger, do you think I would do such a thing?"

"I don't know. You might have, to make me more comfortable."

Snape knew he shouldn't say what he was driven to say next, but he did anyway.

"If I remove a woman's clothes, Miss Granger, it's not to make her more comfortable, believe me," he purred. "Now, go back to sleep. It's too late to return to Gryffindor tower."

He started to leave the room.

"But where are you sleeping, professor?" she asked him.

"In the study. Now, go back to sleep, Miss Granger."

Snape left the bedroom.

Hermione sat there, now looking about the sparse room. It was so much different than the one the alternate Snape resided it. There was nothing but a bed, a dresser, a wardrobe and a wooden chair here. Nothing hung on the walls except two torches, and there were no floor coverings. It sort of looked like a furnished dungeon cell.

Hermione lay back down, closing her eyes, aware of the firmness of the mattress. It only had a little give. Well, it figured a hard man would have a hard bed. But the pillows were nice and soft and the thread count of the sheets was high. So there was some comfort among the meagerness of the surroundings.

She lay there for more than thirty-minutes, tossing and turning, unable to fall back to sleep. Her brown eyes rested on the open bedroom door and the firelight flickering around the sill. She wondered if the Potions master was asleep. Slowly, she slipped out of bed and pulled on her jeans. She padded to the door and peeked around it.

Professor Snape wasn't asleep. He was sitting in front of the fire, staring into the flames. He had a glass in one hand. She noticed he looked a bit angry, not that he didn't always look angry about something.

"I find it incomprehensible that a witch as brilliant as you are, Miss Granger, cannot follow a simple directive," Snape said, not looking her way. "I told you to go back to sleep."

Hermione was a bit shocked he knew she was there, but the dark wizard was extremely aware of her presence. It was why he was frowning.

"I tried to go back to sleep," Hermione said. "I can't. I'm in an unfamiliar place."

"My potions office isn't a usual place, and you feel asleep just fine in there," the wizard snapped at her. "You aren't trying hard enough."

Hermione walked into the study and sat down in the other armchair.

"How can I 'try' to sleep? I can't force myself? It's natural. You can't force what comes naturally," she told the Potions master.

Now Snape looked at her, his head cocked slightly and one eyebrow lifted. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as the reality of her situation suddenly dawned on her. She was alone in the middle of the night in professor Severus Snape's private quarters, only mere paces from his bedroom.

"Really, Miss Granger? Perhaps you can give me another example of what can't be forced?" he purred at her. "Since you insist on further infringing on my personal time, I might as well be entertained by your Gryffindorisms."

Hermione frowned.

"Gryffindorisms? What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Snape smirked slightly and took another sip of his Firewhiskey.

"From the inception of this school, Gryffindors have been rambling off various incarnations of the same insipid set of erroneous premises and words-to-live-by for centuries. Ridiculous premises such as the statement you just made," the wizard said with a sniff.

"What?" Hermione growled, frowning.

Snape idly playing with his glass for a moment as Hermione seethed.

"You certainly can force what comes naturally if you apply enough effort," the dark wizard informed her.

"If you force something, how can it come naturally?" Hermione argued. "There's been an outside influence if you interfere and try and direct it. In that case, even if you are successful at making something happen, it doesn't happen naturally. It's unnatural because it didn't happen on its own."

Snape studied her for a moment, his eyes slowly sliding over the witch from head to toe before he turned his head back toward the fire, his lips pressed together tightly.

"Well? What do you have to say about that, professor?" Hermione pushed, wanting an answer.

Still staring at the fire, Snape responded to her goading. She seemed to enjoy a good argument. But Snape wasn't the kind of wizard to argue for very long.

"You are too young and inexperienced to debate me on this, Miss Granger. I suggest you back down or I'll be forced to show you an example of the premise. I am not a man to waste words and 'tell' when I can take action and 'show' how something works," Snape said softly.

"Oh, I suppose with magic, right?" Hermione asked a bit witheringly. "That's really 'natural.' "

"No. Not with magic, Miss Granger," Snape replied. "Manipulation with magic is not the answer to everything. Still, I suggest you pull your feet away from the fire before it burns you."

"I have never been 'burned' in a debate, professor," Hermione said indignantly, completely misconstruing what Snape meant. "If you can prove your premise, then prove it!"

Snape now looked at her again.

"An 'experiment' then, Miss Granger? It would require your participation if I am to prove my point," he told her.

"All right," Hermione agreed. "What do I have to do?"

Snape considered her. Well, she had refused to back down, so he was well within his rights to demonstrate his point.

"Stand up," he said quietly.

Hermione did so. The Potions master also stood.

"Face me," he ordered.

Hermione did, staring up at the wizard.

"Now, when I walk forward, I want you to react honestly," he purred, taking a step forward and invading the witch's space. Hermione swallowed and stepped back from him. Snape advanced again, slowly closing the distance between them, and again Hermione stepped back. They continued this little dance until Hermione found herself against the book covered wall, unable to retreat further. Snape closed the distance between them, placing a pale hand on either side of Hermione, trapping her between his arms. Hermione's heart was pounding at his closeness.

"Now, you have to admit I forced you to back against the wall, correct, Miss Granger?" he said to her, his voice like silk.

"Yes," Hermione nearly whispered, feeling as if she couldn't draw a deep breath.

"Now, let's see what comes naturally," Snape breathed, lowering his head and capturing Hermione's lips with his own.

At first, Hermione stiffened, but her stiffness didn't last as Snape's kiss took over, gentle and sensual, his mouth shifting against hers seductively, just as compelling as the kiss of his counterpart. She began to return the kiss, only to feel him slightly pulling back. She followed, pressing her lips against his, but feeling him withdrawing. Hermione wasn't about to let the kiss end so soon, so pursued his mouth, eyes closed, moving forward.

Finally, Snape pulled away completely and Hermione's eyes flew open.

They were back in front of the armchairs. Snape gave her a small smirk, although his black eyes were glinting at her.

"My point proven, Miss Granger," he purred. "You did what came naturally after I forced the situation."

Hermione stared at him.

"You—you kiss just as good as your counterpart," she breathed.

"I wouldn't know," Snape replied, eyeing the smitten witch.

"You do, believe me," Hermione said, feeling as if a legion of dragons were flying about in her belly, spouting flames.

"Fine, I believe you," Snape said, sitting down again. Hermione just stood there, looking at him. "And I believe I've won the argument."

Hermione wasn't thinking about the argument. She was thinking about his kiss. And how much she wouldn't mind another one or two . . . or ten. Would the professor be interested in a snogging session?

Oh, but she couldn't ask him that, could she? No. She didn't have the nerve. Maybe she could find another way to let him know she was interested in more kisses.

"Um, professor—I'm not sure I've gotten the gist of the premise. Maybe we could do another experiment?"

Snape looked up at her, then his face contorted.

"Miss Granger, if you are attracted to me, or would like me to continue to kiss you, simply say so. I prefer directness to coy games," he told her. "Also, there is a marked difference between myself and the Snape that you engaged. I don't consider intimacy 'business as usual' whether simple kisses or sex. I don't appreciate being used and cast aside, as your counterpart found out. If this is just a momentary weakness or something you don't wish to continue, then it's best we refrain completely."

Hermione stared at him.

"What? You want a relationship with me?" she asked him, unable to believe it.

"If possible. I don't know that it is, but what I don't want is a night of intimate contact and then nothing, or to see you on the arm of some young wizard afterwards. If you are playing wizard-tag, then it's best you leave me out of the game. As I said, I'm too old for games, Miss Granger."

"Wizard tag? I've never done that. The only wizard I've been with is you—I mean your alternate you—"

Hermione suddenly blushed.

Snape stared up at her from the armchair, then said softly, "Miss Gran—Hermione, I may not be as attractive or 'good' as my counterpart, but I would never treat you as callously as he did. I may not as pleasant as other men, or as social, but I am something that many men are not in this world—true. And it isn't reciprocal. It isn't something I dole out as I see fit. It is my nature, my strength in the face of all adversity. All I ask in return, Hermione, is your honesty and consideration of my feelings. That is all I need. If for some reason you find our association unpleasant, all you'll need to do is tell me, and I will release you."

Hermione looked down at this world's professor Snape, with his lank hair, big nose and harsh features. Suddenly, he seemed far more attractive than his silky-haired counterpart. It had nothing to do with looks and demeanor at all. This Severus Snape actually had a heart he was willing to invest. All the good looks in the world couldn't trump that.  
"Could we take it slow?" Hermione asked him plaintively.

This wasn't a case of extra credit after all. She wasn't doing as the Romans did in this situation. There were lines being crossed, chances being taken. She was attracted to the professor, but a little scared. She didn't want to be hurt again.

"As slow as you wish," Snape replied, a bit pleased that Hermione didn't want to just leap into his bed, as pleasant as that would be. Anything good was worth waiting for. A proper courtship was in order, despite both their histories with their alternate selves. This was the real world, and in the real world there were rules made more to their liking.

"All right, then," Hermione said softly. "We can seal the deal with a kiss."

Snape stood up and drew the witch gently into his arms.

"With a few kisses, I think," he replied, lowering his mouth to hers.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	55. The Courtship

**Chapter 55 ~ The Courtship**

So began the clandestine relationship of Miss Hermione Granger and Professor Severus Snape. They decided to keep their courtship a secret, because although there were no rules at Hogwarts forbidding a teacher to be involved with a student that was the age of consent, with Minerva now in charge, that could change quite quickly. Snape wanted to leave the school quietly, not in the midst of scandal.

However, the dark wizard could not help letting some signs of his affection for Hermione slip. Actually, slip wasn't quite the word. Most times, those slips were more like full fledged avalanches. Snape was rich now, and although he couldn't publicly be affectionate with Hermione, he could bestow gifts upon her and in the beginning, he did. Generously. A bit TOO generously.

And all the gifts came by owl post during meals.

There were necklaces of platinum and emerald, rings, bracelets, earrings and all types of little expensive trinkets Snape believed witches appreciated. Of course, Hermione returned them all, (except one demure necklace she really liked) scolding him in private, but she had a difficult time explaining, or trying not to explain who was sending her all of the expensive, fancy gifts.

Ron was her worst interrogator, because he was extremely jealous about it.

"All right, Hermione, who's your sugar daddy? He has to be loaded!" Ron would demand at breakfast as the other Gryffindors craned their necks to see what wonderful gift had arrived by owl this time.

"Ron, you prat! I don't have a 'sugar daddy!' Leave me alone!" Hermione would snarl back at him, trying to put away whatever bauble Snape sent.

It was hell not to scowl directly at the wizard, who would calmly eat his meal without apparent interest. But he was interested, and highly entertained, which was why he kept sending her gifts. Just to see her deal with her housemates. Plus, he'd have to snog her to complacency when she came to him privately, raging about the continued deluge of gifts.

There was a method to his madness.

"Come on, Hermione. If you don't have a sugar daddy, you have a wizard that really likes you. Who is it? Why won't you tell us?" Harry asked her plaintively. "He can't be a student. Not sending you gifts like that."

"I can't believe you send them back, Hermione," Parvati said enviously. "If it was me, I'd be so covered in jewels and rings, I'd look like a Maharanee."

"Well, I don't do jewelry," Hermione replied.

Draco Malfoy knew where the gifts were coming from. Snape. It had to be Snape. But he didn't say a word about it to anyone but his father, who just shrugged it off.

"Severus is so blasted ugly, sending gifts is probably the only way he can get a woman, Draco. Just be thankful we Malfoys don't have that problem," Lucius told him.

Lucius wasn't the least bit surprised that Snape was going after someone as young as Hermione. Women were much easier to handle at that age. They could be properly trained. He had a couple of Lolitas himself on the side. They were quite tasty.

Finally, after a really bad row where Hermione threatened to end the courtship, Snape stopped sending her extravagant gifts. But he didn't stop sending gifts completely. After treating Hermione's hand one evening, which had cramped up severely from extensive writing, he ordered a very special gift for her. Of course, it arrived by owl in front of everyone. The box was small and long.

"I bet it's another jewel encrusted necklace," Ron muttered blackly.

"It better not be," Hermione said angrily as she opened the box. A green feathered quill and silver ink bottle floated out of it and hovered in front of her.

"Hermione! That's a Quick Quotes Quill, like Rita Skeeter uses!" Ginny Weasley exclaimed. "It'll write down whatever you say!"

Hermione smiled, very pleased. Now, this was a gift she could use.

Snape saw the smile and knew he had hit pay dirt.

Fifty points for Slytherin.

* * *

Snape used the Time Turner to spend a week at Spinner's End, studying all the materials Hermione had collected for him. He thought it wiser to leave the school rather than risk paradox with the Snape that was currently teaching classes. They would be bound to run into each other if he remained in the dungeons.

He and Hermione spent hours getting to know each other as individuals during the months ahead. They never went farther than kissing, although this was more due to Snape's self-control than to Hermione, who was more than ready to take the wizard down to the mattress. But the Potions master wanted to wait until she graduated. It just seemed . . . proper.

"Bother proper!" Hermione would hiss at him, then attack him, usually the both of them tumbling to the sofa, which he had replaced with a nicer one.

Snape would fight her off and send her back to Gryffindor tower stating that she had sexually assaulted him and he wasn't going to stand for such treatment.

Poor Hermione.

It was quite easy to find private time to spend with the Potions master with no one the wiser. She'd simply stop by his office after her Head Girl rounds. It was the perfect cover. She just had to watch out for Filch, the nosy old bugger. She never stayed longer than an hour. Snape wouldn't allow it and said it would attract attention.

They discussed his upcoming venture, and even went out to scout a location for the shop. They left Hogwarts at different times and met up in Knockturn Alley. After visiting a few locations, they decided on Hogsmeade, rather than in Diagon or Knockturn Alley. There were far too many apothecary shops there already.

Now that Snape no longer served the Dark Lord, and had Hermione in his life, he began to fill out a bit. He was still pale, but it wasn't an unhealthy pale. Without the constant stress of spying and being tortured regularly, he ate better, and his food digested well. Of course, Hermione had a hand in his new diet. Snape was almost a total carnivore. Hermione was such a pain in the arse about his eating habits, he dubbed her "The Food Nazi." But, he gave in and now rabbit food (salad) and vegetables were a part of his daily menu.

What men wouldn't do for the women they loved. Make no mistake about it, Snape was in love and knew it. He was resigned. Well, he had served two lords for a very long time. At least Hermione was a pleasant little dictator, with fringe benefits. Still, no one would know how smitten he was based on how he treated her in public. He was as snarky and unpleasant as ever.

Hermione wrote Snape's business plan. In fact, she wrote several business plans, just in case. She even accompanied him to Gringotts bank to apply for the loan. Once again, Snape found himself before Griphook, who tried to convince him to use his own funds at first, then, once he'd shown a profit, he could consider taking out a loan.

Hermione frowned blackly at this approach. Griphook was trying to lower the risk of loss to the bank. It was a well-known fact that the first couple of years were usually a struggle before a business got established, and Snape didn't even have a business background.

"Professor, I think you should take your business and your money elsewhere!" she piped in. "I've heard the elves are starting a bank and offering quite a few perks to draw in customers."

Griphook looked horrified.

Snape looked thoughtful.

Hermione looked smug as she eyed Griphook, watching the swarthy goblin change colors at the very thought of Snape closing his huge account.

"No—no I was simply suggesting—" the goblin said hastily, backpedaling with the best of them.

"You were simply trying to avoid the chance of loss. We know all about risk assessment," Hermione said to him. "First, you told professor Snape he couldn't get a loan because he had no money, now you're telling him he can't have a loan because he does have money!"

Snape just listened. Hermione had taken over, and she was making some very good points. Griphook's ears swiveled nervously. She was right of course.

Hermione looked at Snape.

"Can I negotiate for you, professor?" she asked him.

Snape nodded, and Griphook went pale as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, leaning forward in the chair she sat in.

"All right, this is how it's going to be. The professor has a lot of money tied up in this bank, and you're making money off of it as we speak. He doesn't bloody need your loan, he can afford to open his shop without you grubby little misers, but he does need credit. Here's what you're going to do, or he's going to remove every blasted Knut!"

Hermione arranged the loan, and at almost no interest, considering how much Gringotts made off Snape's account anyway. There would also be no penalty for early repayment. There were a few extra odds and ends that she covered as well. Griphook was shocked by how much she knew about the banking business and how loans worked. He was glad when the little witch walked out of there. He felt thoroughly fleeced.

As they walked down the stairs of the building, Snape said, "Thank you."

Hermione smiled up at him.

"Thank you. I really enjoyed that," she said with a wicked grin.

They began to walk up Diagon Alley.

"Ah, Hermione, I've been thinking—I wonder if you would consider working with me when I open the shop," Snape said.

"As an employee?" she asked him.

Snape nodded.

"No," she replied.

Snape was shocked. Hermione was so invested in his dream that he believed it would be a no-brainer she would work for him.

"If I worked for you, you'd sack me every time we had a disagreement. I'm not willing to give you power like that. And don't tell me you wouldn't do it. I've been your student for seven years. I know what it's like to be—subjected to you in a position of authority. When I graduate, I'm leaving that behind, Severus Snape. We're going to be on equal footing."

Snape's lip quirked.

"I see a bit of negotiation is needed," he purred at her silkily.

"Purring at me isn't going to help this time, Severus. We're in public. You can't snog me into complacency here," she said firmly.

Snape couldn't help thinking that once she graduated, his approach to getting her to comply with his wishes was going to change. Dramatically, although some snogging would still be involved. His black eyes glittered for a moment.

"However, I'd be willing to be a partner. I really think you need me to do the negotiating for you when it comes to your purchases. You aren't aggressive enough," Hermione said.

Snape almost chuckled. She had no idea how aggressive he could be if necessary.

"And you are?" he asked her.

"You saw it for yourself. Griphook was quaking in his suit," Hermione replied.

"Very well," Snape said. "You will be a partner. I doubt, however, that you'll be a silent one."

"I want it in writing, and the details as well," Hermione said, ignoring his little jibe.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"Why, Hermione, you make me feel as if you don't trust me," Snape said, frowning slightly.

Hermione gave him a small smile.

"We might be involved, Severus, but you're still a Slytherin, and Slytherins are inherently self-serving. I have to stay on my toes," she responded. "It's just business."

Snape gave her a thin smile in return.

It might be just business to Hermione, but to the Potions master, having her as a partner would be a very distinct pleasure.

* * *

A/N: I just thought a bit of how they interact with each other was necessary to the story. I kind of took a cue from how I imagine Severus was with Lily when they were friends and he was in love with her. I think he let her take the lead, as in leading him around by his nose, and was generous with her as much as he could be. So, I can see him being a bit retiring and accommodating with Hermione. Thanks for reading.


	56. And Now for Something Completely Differe

**Chapter 56 ~ And Now for Something Completely Different**

The NEWTs came and went. Hermione did excellently, almost scoring perfect marks. Of course, she was a bit down about that, but she made the highest marks Hogwarts had seen in almost fifty years. She just had to accept that.

Ron and Harry both made a fair showing, Harry qualifying for an Auror position with the Ministry. Ron would have to take one remedial class before he would qualify, but that wasn't so bad. He believed he was going to fail completely and slumped in relief when he found out he had passed. Unlike Harry, however, he really didn't want to be an Auror. He said he did, because Harry wanted to be one so badly, but what he really wanted to do was work in Fred and George's joke shop. It would be much more fun, although not necessarily safer.

Fred and George needed a stable guinea pig to try their jokes out on. Ron had no idea this was what they were hiring him for. More than likely the Ministry would start to look pretty damn good in the coming weeks.

Minerva McGonagall announced that Professor Severus Snape would not be returning to Hogwarts, and cheers filled the Great Hall as students sixth year and under celebrated the changing of the guard. No matter who took over the Potions class, he or she would have to be better than Snape. The dark wizard fixed the students with a final glare, which only made them cheer harder.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were in attendance and were very proud of their little girl as she received extra honors and awards for her excellence. Hermione started getting self-conscious the fourth time she was called to the stage, and blushed horribly. Snape was quite proud of her as well, although all he said publicly was, "A fair showing, Miss Granger" before billowing off, heading for the dungeons to finish closing off his quarters.

Hermione would be spending a month with her parents, during which time she would break the news to them that she had changed her mind about working in the Magical Law Department of the Ministry of Magic. She wasn't sure how they would react to her business venture with professor Snape, but she didn't think it would be an issue. They both had their own businesses after all.

While Hermione was in London, Snape was supposed to have the shop built on the location they'd selected. But Snape had come up with a rather interesting idea of his own. He only wanted one shop, but wanted people from all areas of the wizarding world to be able to utilize it. He didn't tell Hermione anything about his idea. But he had to go to Poland, deep into a very forbidding forest.

So, when school let out, Hermione went her way and Snape went his.

* * *

After fighting his way through carnivorous trees, attacking stones, vines intent on strangling him and a number of very bad-tempered ogres, Snape finally reached his destination. A log cabin set deep in the forest. A palisade made of slender, pointed tree trunks surrounded three sides of it, two human skulls resting on the last posts on either side. A large, hand painted sign on a post driven into the ground read:

NO QUESTIONS ALLOWED!

Snape studied the sign and area for a moment, his wand drawn just in case there were protections. He cautiously walked toward the house. Nothing happened. The door was made of wood as well. It had no knob, just a keyhole.

Snape knocked, but no one answered. He knocked again.

Nothing.

He bent down to look through the keyhole but quickly jerked back when it sprouted teeth and tried to bite his face. Miffed at missing a nice hunk of meat, the keyhole snarled at him.

The dark wizard blinked at it, wondering if an Alohamora would open the door. He pointed his wand at the keyhole and was just about to cast the spell when a thickly accented female voice called out behind him, "Hey, what are you doing to my house?"

Snape spun quickly and looked up to see a young woman of about twenty staring down at him. She was seated in a huge floating mortar with a silver birch broom attached to the back of it. She had both hands clasped around an enormous pestle, apparently using it like a rudder.

"Are you the resident Baba Yaga?" Snape called up to her.

The woman frowned and pointed at the sign.

"Can't you read? No questions!" she snapped at him, pushing the pestle forward and lowering the mortar to the ground. She stepped out of it and approached Snape.

She was an attractive young woman with silver hair and sparkling green eyes and was dressed in a coarse peasant outfit with a kerchief tied around her head like a gypsy.

"Every time I answer a question, I age a year! So don't ask me anything. Make all your statements definitive, or else," she said, her eyes narrowed.

Hm. She must be quite good at avoiding answering questions. All the Baba Yagas Snape had heard about were hags. This one didn't have anything haggish about her in the least.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Snape said, trying to keep the conversation on an even keel. "I've come to make you an offer—for your house."

"My house?" Baba Yaga replied. "It's not for sale."

Snape eyed her.

"I'm sure living in the forest has more to do with your financial situation than your nature. I imagine you've wanted to live a better life than this. I can make that possible. I am quite rich."

Baba Yaga looked at the pale wizard in front of her with more interest now. She did live a lonely life, and a hard one, with no running water, heat, or any luxuries. She lived off the land, and contrary to popular belief, not everyone liked living that way. She rarely had company. Most people were killed off by the flora or ogres before they even reached her house. Then, if they did manage to make it through the forest, they always wanted something and were always asking questions. Maybe it was time to get out and into civilization.

"How much are you offering?" she asked him.

Snape gave her a thin smile.

* * *

Hermione received an owl from Snape saying that the shop was situated. He also informed her he had purchased land in several other commercial locations around the wizarding world. She frowned at this bit of information. How could he enter into such an expensive venture without telling her his plans? It was too soon to think about opening other shops when the first one hadn't even gotten off the ground. Severus had no business sense at all! Good thing he had her.

Hermione planned to give him a good talking to about this. Hopefully, he could get his money back. He wanted to meet her in Hogsmeade this afternoon.

She'd meet him all right.

* * *

Hermione arrived at the location to see Snape standing in front of a small wooden building. Some changes had been made to it, large windows added to the front and another level on top. Still, it was rather rustic looking for a shop.

"This is what you had built? Severus, it looks like a log cabin," Hermione said, eyeing the structure. He should have gone for a more modern design.

"Actually, I didn't build it. I purchased it as is and made some changes to make it more shop-like," the wizard said, looking very satisfied.

"What? You actually bought this and moved it here?" Hermione demanded. "That had to be costly. Where was it originally?"

"Poland," Snape replied.

Hermione turned all kinds of colors. That had to cost a fortune to do.

"Severus! How could you waste money like that? We haven't even opened yet and we're already in the red! That's so—so irresponsible of you! I can't believe you—"

Snape smirked at her then looked at the shop.

"Show her," he said to it.

Hermione stopped bitching for a moment to say, "Did you just speak to the shop?"

Suddenly there was a rumble and Hermione jumped back as the shop visibly shook, then began to rise.

"What the—oh my gods!" Hermione exclaimed as the shop rose up and stood on two very large and sturdy chicken legs.

She turned on Snape, her eyes round as saucers.

"It has legs," Hermione said.

Snape nodded.

"Yes, it does. It can move itself. Actually, it's extremely fast. I didn't pay a Knut to transfer it here. It ran the entire distance, Disillusioned, of course. I rode along quite comfortably. It can even swim."

People were gathering, staring in fascination at the shop, which stood proudly before its audience, basking in their interest. It never received any attention in the forest as a log cabin and had never traveled before. It was fiercely loyal to the wizard who liberated it.

"Lower yourself," Snape ordered.

The legs folded and the shop once again sat on level ground.

"That's just—just brilliant," Hermione breathed.

"So you see why I purchased the land in other locations," Snape said softly, looking down at Hermione who was still staring at the shop. All around them, people were murmuring.

"It wasn't cheap," Snape said. "The Baba Yaga who owned it was quite shrewd, but it was well worth the investment. We have a one-of-a-kind establishment."

Hermione looked up at him.

"You met with a Baba Yaga? They're supposed to be very dangerous hags that eat children."

"She wasn't a hag, but she did ask me to add a plump child or two to sweeten the deal," Snape replied as Hermione looked at him in horror.

"I didn't do it," he added, frowning at her.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Severus was a Slytherin after all.

A young wizard walked up to the pair.

"Hey, what kind of place is this?" he asked Hermione.

"It's going to be an apothecary shop," Hermione told him proudly. "A one-of-a-kind shop where you'll be able to purchase quality potions, potion ingredients and equipment—when it's in town. You'll be able to pick up a schedule of dates and times in the near future."

"Cool," the wizard said with a smile as a renewed murmuring went up from the crowd. This was exciting and new. Everyone planned to visit once it opened. Hermione looked up at Snape.

"You're a bloody genius," she said to him softly.

"Nice of you to notice," he replied silkily, arching an eyebrow at her before looking at the shop again.

Hermione wasn't the only one with good ideas.

* * *

Hermione had haggled and negotiated with several suppliers during her month with her parents, and shipments of goods began to arrive. She and Snape had plenty of volunteer help putting together shelving, counters and stocking goods. Word about their shop had gotten around and everyone wanted to see it. The best way to do that was to help out.

Snape gave Hermione her own key and she immediately put up a warning sign concerning the vicious keyhole after a heated row with him about how dangerous it was.

"It could take off someone's hand!" she argued.

"Only if that hand doesn't have a key, in which case the hand should be nowhere near it," Snape responded. He considered the keyhole added security and refused to budge on it.

Hermione shrewdly fed the keyhole a hunk of meat each morning, which calmed its biting reflex for the day. But she made sure not to feed it to the point where it wouldn't react. Severus would have been livid.

Snape had added a second floor flat onto the shop and planned to live there. He'd save money and be able to brew constantly. It was better furnished than his quarters at Hogwarts had been. He had Hermione's comfort to think about now.

And that wasn't all.

The shop was almost ready to open for business, and all the rushing and madness to prepare it was done. They could take a moment for themselves now.

A moment that they both had looked forward to for a very long time.

As Hermione placed the last dried lizard on the hanging chain of creatures, Snape walked up behind her, gently encircled her waist with his arms and pulled the witch back against him.

"There's only one more thing to do, Hermione," he breathed into her ear. "Celebrate tomorrow's Grand Opening tonight. Will you have dinner with me in my apartment?" he asked her silkily.

Hermione turned in the wizard's arms, looking up at him.

"Only dinner?" she asked him.

Snape looked at her, his eyes glittering.

"That will depend on you, Hermione. You are no longer a student, and I am no longer your teacher. We are on equal footing, now," he said softly. "If you'd like more than dinner, it can and will be arranged."

"I'll bring my overnight bag, then," she said, pulling Snape down and snogging him soundly for several minutes. When she pulled away, Snape licked his lips as if he'd just tasted ambrosia.

"You do that," he said softly.

* * *

A/N: lol. I couldn't resist the Baba Yaga bit. I like introducing other magical/mythological entities into stories. They're fun and interesting. Thanks for reading. ***


	57. Dinner

Chapter 58 ~ Dinner

Snape was a decent cook and for tonight's meal he prepared a small beef roast with gravy, accompanied by roast potatoes, sweet peas and carrots. For dessert he made treacle tarts. He noticed Hermione seemed partial to them while at Hogwarts.

It wasn't a fancy meal, but at least it met Hermione's nutritional requirements for him. Besides, Hermione proved to be of such a frugal nature, Snape had a feeling that if he served anything extravagant, like prawns for example, he'd get a lecture. Tonight wasn't the night for lectures. Simple was safer.

Over the months, Snape had added thirty pounds and was no longer the gaunt wizard of former times. He was still lean, but a healthy weight.

Snape showered and washed his hair thoroughly in anticipation of his night with Hermione. He was a bit nervous about engaging the young woman. This was the first time in his life that he was going to be with a witch that meant something to him, and it promised to be much different than his occasional dalliances with prostitutes or drunken women he'd picked up in some pub.

He loved Hermione and much of his worry was that he might become too passionate. The gods knew that despite his appearance of control, there were evenings where he wanted to throw control out of the turret window and let Hermione's desire take him over. It had been a rather desperate fight on his part, although Hermione was never the wiser.

He would have to maintain control, to think. He couldn't just let animal lust take him over. What he felt for Hermione was more than that, and he wanted to be sure she knew it. The "L" word hadn't come up, but she would need to hear it from him tonight, and she would. His greatest hope was that her feelings were reciprocal—that she would say she loved him as well.

Not since Lily Evans had Severus felt such a strong desire for a witch, and that had ended painfully. Actually, it hadn't ended until Voldemort's departure. Snape's loyalty to a deceased witch that didn't love him back led him to protect her son, Harry, as if he were his own. But Harry wasn't his own—he was the son of his nemesis, James Potter.

It had been a twisted existence, and the Potions master often told himself he was insane during those dark times, but despite those feelings, he continued until the threat to Harry Potter was past. He would have died for him, if necessary.

If not for the appearance and engagement with alternate Hermione, Snape might have continued to pine for Lily Potter and not been open to the possibility of a decent relationship with this world's Hermione. True, his relationship with her counterpart was one of opportunity, but that wasn't the case with the Gryffindor witch.

Hermione was the first person in his life who truly cared for him, and showed it fiercely. She was protective, opinionated and outspoken. She sincerely wished to be with him. Her affections were real and affecting. Anytime Snape took Hermione into his arms and her lips met his, it was electric, something that thrilled and swelled his once cold heart.

So this was what happiness felt like.

Now tonight would be the consummation, when they came together physically. Snape felt since he was the one with more sexual experience, it was up to him to make sure it would be a good experience for Hermione. He didn't want to drive her off. He wanted her happy and satisfied with him in every way. So it wouldn't be sex as usual. There would have to be restraint, at least in the beginning.

* * *

As she readied herself to spend the night with Severus, Hermione was feeling a bit of her own performance anxiety. Snape had been with her counterpart, and Hermione had no doubt that she had been quite talented and experienced concerning sex. Hermione's experience with Gryffindor Snape had been good, but once she deconstructed it, she found it very one-sided. He had handled everything and basically dominated her in bed. She hadn't really done anything but be there and experience the pleasure. She was sure if it had been her counterpart, she would have been much more aggressive.

And there was the concern. What if she wasn't' good? What if Severus found her lacking when it came to intimacy? What if he wanted her to do something she'd never done? Would she freeze up? Would she say no? And would he take it as a rejection or believe she was frigid? The wizard she was in love with had experience. She didn't. How could they be true equals if she couldn't keep up with him in the bedroom?

Then she remembered something Gryffindor Snape had told her before they had sex:

_There are women who men take and forget, and then there are women they take and can't get out of their heads. The women who are forever remembered and longed for._

And he had told her the secret to being one of those women. But she couldn't remember it exactly. Luckily, she had a small Pensieve, perfect for small memories. After sifting through several bags, Hermione located the small blue bowl, sat down on the edge of her bed and quickly removed her memories with her wand tip.

She took a deep breath, then stared down into the swirling silver liquid. She found herself once again in Gryffindor Snape's bedroom, only this time not as a participant, but an observer. It was a bit jarring to see herself and the alternate Snape lying naked in bed together, but she stoically sucked it up and got through it, listening intently to his advice.

In the end, "Turnabout is fair play" was the gist of it.

Hermione let out a sigh as she exited the Pensieve. Alternate Snape had been a wonderful sexual partner physically, but Hermione felt he had left her empty emotionally. And he had. He felt no connection to her at all afterwards. It had been "business as usual."

But the advice he gave her concerning men was something she could carry with her all her days.

At least he had given her that much.

* * *

Snape had just set the main meal out on the table when Hermione arrived, knocking on his door. She had let herself into the shop and walked the narrow flight of stairs up to his apartment. Her heart was racing and she did her best to appear calm.

Snape drew a deep breath and opened the door, looking down at the woman who moved him more than any other in existences. Hermione was dressed in a nice, blue robe and her wild hair was suitably tamed for the occasion, having more curl than bushiness. She had made herself up demurely with just a touch of eye makeup and lipstick, and had a small carryall bag in her hand, which Snape quickly took.

"Punctual as ever," he said softly, kissing her lightly then escorting her in and closing the door.

Hermione watched as he set the carryall on the floor near the sofa. She felt as if she couldn't move as he turned back toward her. He looked rather concerned since she hadn't spoken at all.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked her, catching one of her hands. It was almost as cold as ice. The wizard placed another warm, pale hand around it, rubbing gently.

"My gods, you feel as if you've been out in the dead of winter. Come, sit down at the table," Snape said solicitously, guiding Hermione to the dinner spread and pulling out her chair. She sat down rather stiffly.

Snape cast a small warming spell on the food to keep it from going cold while he made Hermione a strong cup of hot tea to warm and relax her. From his little spice/potions rack he added just a touch of mint-flavored Replenishing potion to shore her up a bit. He pressed the cup into her hand.

"You take your time and drink that," he told her, sitting down across from Hermione.

She robotically brought the cup to her lips as Snape began to tell her about all of the people who kept knocking on the shop door during the evening, and how he finally had the shop rise up from the ground to keep the curious from disturbing him.

"Actually, the shop is up on two legs right now," he told her as she began to relax.

"Is it?" she asked him, speaking her first words since arriving. "I didn't feel any movement."

Snape smirked at her.

"That's part of its magic. Nothing inside is at all disturbed when it moves. It could be running top speed and unless we were at the windows, we wouldn't know it."

Both of Hermione's eyebrows rose at this revelation.

"So, it could run away with us and we wouldn't know? That's not exactly comforting, Severus," she said, looking around the apartment and out of one of the windows. They weren't moving now.

Snape chuckled.

"It won't go anywhere unless I order it, Hermione. Don't worry, we won't suddenly be carried off, I promise you," he said with a smirk.

Feeling more relaxed by his conversation and the spiked tea, Hermione looked at dinner, then up at him.

"You cooked this?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied shortly, watching as Hermione cut into the roast and inserted a piece into her mouth. She chewed critically, then swallowed and smiled at him.

"That's rather good," she said, cutting into a roast potato and swirling a piece in the rich brown gravy made from scratch.

"Of course it's good," Snape replied, cutting and spearing a piece of meat himself. "I am a Potions master after all. If I can brew potions which require proper measures of ingredients and precise heating, I can certainly cook savory meals."

He popped the sliver of meat into his mouth and chewed, arching an eyebrow at Hermione, who smiled at him.

"Such modesty," she said sarcastically, eating a few peas. They were tender, sweet and flavorful.

Snape's big nose wrinkled a bit.

"Ah, Modesty," he purred at her. "The gentle art of enhancing your charm by pretending not to be aware of it. I'm afraid that's not me. Charm be damned. If you've got it, you've got it."

Hermione laughed out loud.

"You're incorrigible," she told him, totally relaxed now. Snape's normalcy was like a balm to her. They began to talk about future plans for the shop over the meal, Hermione's excitement more than evident.

"We're going to have to put out monthly schedules that give the dates and times the shop will be in what town. It's going to take a bit of work to get it right, because customers will need to be able to pick up their orders, unless we provide owl post service. I'm sure we can get a good deal on it," she chattered as Snape listened.

"We can add our own owlery," the wizard said shortly as Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Yes! That's a wonderful idea! And owls need little feeding as they prefer to hunt their own food when possible," she replied as Snape retrieved dessert. Treacle tarts and cold milk. Hermione looked at the tarts, impressed.

"You made these too?" she asked him.

Snape nodded, then said, "My mother's recipe."

Hermione fell silent for a moment. She knew his terrible story of how his Muggle father killed his mother, then himself. She never imagined there were normal times when Eileen Snape baked for her family. One usually didn't think about such things when there was such tragedy. She reverently took a bite of the tart, savoring the flaky pastry and sweet blend of oats, ginger, lemon and golden syrup.

"It's absolutely delicious, Severus," Hermione said, drinking some milk.

"It was my favorite dessert as a boy," he replied, his black eyes a bit distant.

Hermione looked at him sympathetically, knowing he had few pleasant memories of his childhood. Most of them seemed to revolve around Harry's mother, when they were friends. They had been very close at one time, Lily helping him with charms and Severus helping her with potions. He had told Hermione their friendship ended abruptly, but never told her exactly what happened.

The rest of his life had been awful, although he never complained about it. But, he did show Hermione some of the scars on his back when she felt them through his robes one evening when they were snogging. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his robes, turned and pulled them down over his shoulder, showing the criss-crossed scars on his pale upper back. Hermione had cried when she saw them, and clutched him as if he were going to melt away.

"Don't cry, Hermione," Snape had murmured, drawing his robes back up again, then turning and taking her into his arms, stroking her hair gently as she sobbed. No one had ever shown such empathy for what he'd gone through for the Greater Good, and it endeared Hermione to him even more. "What's done is done, and I don't have to suffer any longer now that the Dark Lord has moved on."

Hermione then railed against Dumbledore for several minutes, demanding to know why he didn't do more to protect him. Snape explained there was nothing that could be done without arousing suspicion. Hermione refused to believe that, and her opinion of the deceased Headmaster was significantly lowered, despite the fact that Albus had done the best he could considering the circumstances.

In fact, he had just been about to go and retrieve Marvalo Gaunt's ring, which was hidden in the ruins of his home. It was a gold ring with the Peverell coat of arms etched into a black stone. Albus believed it held one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. But he never got a chance to put his plans into action. Destiny had another larger plan this time.

Snape and Hermione finished their meal, collected the dishes and washed them Muggle style, a huge water fight breaking out that soaked the both of them and ended in quite a hot snogging session as Snape attempted to kiss Hermione into submission.

The struggle for domination ended in the living room with both of them on the sofa. Hermione won the struggle, lying atop the wizard and snogging him until he breathlessly gave in, then letting him up. Snape pulled at his wet robes, then pulled out his wand to dry the both of them off. He dried his own robes first, then pointed his wand at Hermione, who suddenly shook her head.

"No, I'll just take them off," she said to the wizard, then stood up. She began to work at her fasteners.

Snape watched her, expecting her usual t-shirt and jeans beneath her robes. Hermione unfastened her robes and took a deep breath—

"It's now or never," she thought to herself as she whipped her robes open and let them slide down her arms and to the floor.

Snape stiffened as he looked at her. She was dressed in a short, Slytherin green silk nightie that stopped mid thigh and clung to her like a second skin, flaring at her hips. Her bare shoulders were visible, thin straps holding it on. Her cleavage was mouth-wateringly displayed.

All he could do was blink. He certainly hadn't expected this.

"I—I thought I'd take some initiative," Hermione said softly. She was still in her socks and trainers, but it did nothing to take away from the effect as far as Snape was concerned.

"Let's hear it for initiative," the wizard replied, before catching her hand and pulling her into his lap. Hermione gasped as he yanked her feet up and proceeded to remove her trainers and socks, dropping them to the floor, then gathering her into his arms.

"You are—exquisite," Snape breathed, covering her mouth with his own.

* * *

  
A/N: Thanks for reading.


	58. Connecting

**Chapter 58 ~ Connecting**

As Snape's mouth hungrily covered her own, Hermione was aware of several things assailing her senses all at once. His fingers sliding into her hair, his hand resting on the curve of her hip, its warmth penetrating the thin silk, so close to her skin, and the gentle hunger in his kiss. It was so much more than she was used to feeling. There was always a sense of controlled hunger when the wizard kissed her, but this kiss had a sensual expectancy to it, as if it wasn't the end all.

And it wasn't. This kiss was just the beginning tonight. There would be no breaking of mounting passion, no pulling away to send her hot and bothered back to Gryffindor tower. There was fire in the kiss, one that poured over her frame and licked at her apex, although Snape did nothing he normally didn't do when intimate with her.

Snape possessed her mouth languorously, taking his time, tasting her flavor, her heat, reveling in her willingness, her responsiveness as she wrapped her arms around his neck, receiving him, wanting his contact. Hermione Granger was a jewel among witches, and her desire for him addictive. He felt the heat of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her gown as his hand rested on the swell of her hip, warm, compelling and intoxicating. This was the closest he'd come to touching her naked flesh since they began courting.

He intended to do more than come close touching her bare skin tonight. He would explore every curve, mound and gully of the landscape of her body. Before this night was over, he would have a total map of the world of Hermione Granger, memorized and drawn from the journey of his mouth, lips and fingertips. He would know her tides, the rise and fall of her passion, the depths of her surrender. And he wouldn't abuse the gift she was about to give him.

This Hermione was no practiced courtesan of another world, used to using her body to manipulate and attain what she wanted. This Hermione Granger was as transparent as glass, her motivations honest and her desire from the heart. That was the driving force behind his affection for the young witch. Her honesty, accessibility and heart.

Hermione pulled back from his kiss, looking into those dark eyes glittering back at her. Snape didn't say a word as he looked at her flushed face. Every sense he had was immersed in her taste, the heat of her body, the scent of her, the sound of her breath and the way she looked at this moment. Hungry but hesitant. It was obvious to see she needed to speak. He'd let her have her say.

"I—I wasn't sure what to wear tonight," Hermione said to him softly. "I considered a sexy bra and knickers set, but—I didn't feel comfortable with that. I hope you're not disappointed. I know wizards are supposed to like fancy lingerie."

Normally, Snape cared little about fancy trimmings, as was evidenced by his treatment of the alternate Hermione when she tried to parade her fancy underthings before him. But that had been a different case. He was sure she'd done that before with other wizards, so he wasn't a special case. He made sure she knew he didn't think she was either.

But Hermione making this effort was something different, because he knew it was something she'd done specifically for him in an attempt to make herself even more desirable. She didn't know she didn't need to do this. He was already sexually attracted to her, but his desire was based on more than her physical attributes. She didn't need to try and enhance her femininity.

When he didn't answer, Hermione pressed on a bit, trying to share her small misgivings.

"I—I know you were with my counterpart, Severus. From what I found out about her, she had to be—experienced. She probably was better than I'll be—"

She faltered, unable to continue. Her brown eyes glistened as she considered her shortcomings. Snape felt a powerful rush of desire flow over him as he looked at her. What gods had smiled on him to give him access to such a beautiful, honest witch?

"No one could be 'better' than you, Hermione," he said to her softly, brushing back her hair. "No one compares to you, witch, believe me when I tell you this. I'm blessed that you feel as you do about me, that you are willing to give yourself to me, a man of such darkness . . . a man with a past like mine—I am grateful. Thankful. At times, overwhelmed."

Snape kissed her again, softly.

"You are the light I've always longed for. I didn't know it then, but now—"

Snape's silken voice cracked a bit under the great emotion he felt for the woman in his arms. His chest tightened as he considered his next statement. His plunge into the unknown.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he said, feeling that tightness increase as the witch studied him. Several moments of silence ensued, Snape feeling as if he were about to tumble off the edge of a black abyss as he waited for her response.

"I—I love you, too, Severus," Hermione replied softly, smiling at him tenderly. "With all my heart."

Snape blinked at her for a moment, then suddenly crushed the witch against him, embracing her tightly, unable to find words to answer her admission.

She loved him. By the gods, she loved him.

"Severus—I can't breathe," Hermione gasped.

He quickly loosened his hold on her, his black eyes wet as he looked at his witch with an almost pained expression. Hermione cupped his face, her eyes full of concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

Snape nodded. Suddenly he stood up, Hermione clinging to him as he strode toward his bedroom, carrying her easily.

I'm more than 'all right,'" he answered, kissing her again as they entered the room. Instead of going straight to the bed, Snape stood in the middle of his bedroom and continued kissing Hermione, not putting her down. His kisses were soft, sensuous and teasing as their mouths connected and disconnected, the wizard turning his head this way and that, sometimes capturing her lower lip between his own, or running his tongue over her mouth before slipping it inside. Then, he did something different. He kissed her throat.

Hermione leaned her head to the side, her eyes closed in pleasure as Snape finally crossed into unexplored territory. Up to this point, he had only kissed her mouth and her hands. She shuddered as he ran a little line of kisses down her throat and over her shoulder. Snape shifted, lifting Hermione higher, listening to her sighs as he kissed the swell of her breasts before moving over her collarbone, back to her throat, then returned to her mouth.

As they kissed, the room around them took on a dream-like quality, becoming hazy and indistinct for the couple. This was another kind of magic, the magic of connection where reality shifts and there are suddenly only two people in the world that matter. Only two people journeying toward oneness, totally intoxicated by the taste, touch, scent and sound of each other, falling under the one spell no wand could ever cast –

Love.

Neither Severus Snape nor Hermione Granger could tell you exactly when they fell to the mattress, or who disrobed who. Neither of them could even tell you where one's body began and the other ended. There was no thinking now, no conscious firing of synapses, or higher brain functions. Hermione didn't have time to worry about her inexperience. There was only passion, urgency and pleasure as Snape's mouth and hands moved over her body reverently, purring his desire, extolling her beauty, his long fingers exploring every curve and delicate crevice, love keeping him gentle, his black eyes watching her arching responses, his mouth finding erotic zones Hermione never dreamed she had. There was no part of Hermione left untouched or unexplored during the wizard's foreplay.

And Hermione, caught up in the sensuality of their explorations, found her fingers splayed over his lean body, caressing and touching, familiarizing themselves with his undulating musculature, his scars, and even his cock. Snape's breath hitched when she first touched him, and he lay back as she straddled him, kissing his mouth softly before beginning her own worship of his body. She wanted to kiss every inch of that lean, pale form, to show him she was just as enamored of him as he was of her. Snape closed his eyes, his hands buried lightly in her hair as he experienced a woman's true passion for him for the first time in his life. He buckled, not used to the feel of a woman's hands and mouth moving over every inch of his body. His goods had been handled, but this—this was far more intimate. Far more affecting.

When Hermione's lips moved over the length of his cock, Snape had to hold his breath and count down from twenty to keep from spewing all over the room. She didn't give him a blow job, however, but he didn't feel cheated. How could he when she was giving him something he'd never had before? Blowjobs were a knut a dozen . . . but this?

Snape had a number of scars and Hermione's mouth found every one of them. She even climbed behind him, caressing his belly, chest and cock as she kissed her way down his back, listening to that rich voice purr in pleasure. She stopped at the small of his back, her hands caressing his thighs, feeling the sparse black hair beneath her palms before climbing back over him and embracing him, locking her mouth to his mouth, their bodies hot and close. Snape's erection throbbed against her belly as they continued to kiss and explore each other as if they had never touched a human being before.

It had never taken Snape this long to fuck a witch. That he was even capable of such patience was incredible. No, it simply seemed incredible. Love was never involved before, and all the kisses, caresses and exploration represented something more than sex, something he'd been lacking all his life. And with every kiss and touch, he was falling deeper in love with Hermione.

"I would give you the entire world if I could, Hermione Granger," he said to her softly as they came up for air.

"It's not the entire world I want, Severus," Hermione breathed back at him, pressing into his erection unmistakably. "I just want to be a part of yours. Show me your world."

Snape sat up as Hermione rolled to her back in invitation. His harsh features seemed a bit harsher now, but it was desire that made him look that way. Hermione reached up and caressed his cheek, as if to reassure herself that his look belied his emotions. The black eyes softened a bit at her contact, and she gave him a little smile as he leaned over her, his hair curtaining his face.

"I love you," the wizard said again, his harsh expression somehow adding more fire to the declaration before he carefully mounted her body. Hermione moaned as she felt his hard, heavy member rest against her sex. Like most men, Snape looked down at Hermione's pussy. Now, this was a proper witch's pussy, the curling brown bush neatly trimmed but without a design. No landing strips. No piercings.

He then lowered himself for a moment, to give her one more kiss, then rose up on his hands, reaching between their bodies, Hermione spreading her thighs wider and gasping as the thick head slid down her slit and over her clit before pressing into the slight depression that led to the center of her universe.

"Welcome to my world, Hermione," Snape breathed, pressing forward and entering her tight, slick and hot sleeve gently.

"Oh my gods—Severus," she hissed as his length and girth filled her, pulsing, hard and oh, so welcomed. She looked up at him with wet eyes, her lips parted as he held still, staring down at her. Then he drew back, his thick cock caressing her, Hermione letting out a cry of pleasure, her hands instinctively moving to his arse, clutching at his buttocks and anxiously pulling him forward again.

"Hermione," Snape breathed as she pulled him into her tight sleeve.

He began to stroke her, his pale body flexing rhythmically as he claimed the witch he loved, reveling in her soft cries and softer flesh as he took her, her juices squishing around him, wetting his loins, beads of moisture clinging to the black hair curling at the base of his cock. He was as careful and gentle with Hermione as he had been vicious and brutal with her counterpart. There would be time for frenzied possessions, he was sure, but tonight, tonight was about love.

However, he was not about to be upstaged by Hermione's memory of his counterpart, and was just as creative in the positions he took her in, letting Hermione know that he truly considered her his now, mind, body and soul. Yet, Hermione had her moments as well, rolling the wizard over to his back and holding his hands down by the wrists as she rode him cowgirl style, hair and breasts bouncing, her eyes closed in pleasure as she took full advantage of his delicious size. Had it been this good with the other Snape?

No. Definitely not.

Because Hermione knew when this was over, there'd be no magic mirrors ringing with waiting witches in the glass wanting to know how the pussy was. There'd be no sense of, "That was nice, Hermione, but it's time to go."

She looked down at the wizard staring up at her, his black eyes glittering, his face twisted almost into a snarl as she rose and fell on his glistening tool. Suddenly, Snape tore his wrists away from her hands, grasped her waist and began to drive upward, adding his own power to hers, fast and furious as he approached the pinnacle. He wrapped his arms around Hermione, pulling her down and kissing her deeply, still pumping, still driving into her, now frenzied, gasping into her mouth, stroking right in the perfect place. Hermione felt the tightening. Oh gods!

Hermione let out a shriek as she climaxed, her hot juices pouring over the wizard's cock as her sleeve tightened and pulsed. Snape let out a groan and shuddered, holding Hermione tightly as he released, filling her body with his seed. They quaked against each other for several minutes, bodies slick and weak from their efforts and culmination.

Finally, Snape gently rolled to the side, letting Hermione dismount, then softly blew on her heated skin to cool her brow as she lay there looking at him with a soft smile. They lay face to face, heads resting on the pillows, Snape's large nose almost touching hers.

"I didn't know you were into domination," he said softly. "It's always the innocent ones that have the most kinks."

"I'm not into domination," Hermione replied, frowning a little.

"The wrists," Snape reminded her. "I have never had a witch hold me down and have her way with me before. It was—interesting to be on the receiving end. We're going to have to explore that a bit more."

Hermione blushed. She had held his hands down on the sides of his head, but it helped her balance, and told him so.

Snape snorted.

"You could have balanced by placing your hands on the mattress," he said to her archly. "You just wanted to put me at your mercy and did so."

He gave her a small kiss, but Hermione still snorted.

"You could have gotten away any time you wanted," she said to him.

"Actually," Snape crooned, "I did just that, didn't I?"

Hermione blushed again. Yes, he broke free, and gone at her so fast and passionately at the end, it was almost like sitting on a jackhammer. But he hadn't been brutal, just thorough, and Merlin . . . so good.

It had been a wonderful first time.

"Yes, you did," she agreed softly. "And you were wonderful."

Snape gave her a thin smile, then slowly caressed her cheek.

"Are you certain you love me, Hermione Granger?" he asked her, wanting to hear the witch say it again.

Soft brown eyes met vulnerable black ones for a moment.

"Absolutely," she replied.

Snape blinked at her.

"Then, you're going to have to marry me immediately," he declared.

"What?" Hermione gasped sitting up.

Snape sat up too.

"You're going to marry me," he said. "Since you love me, that shouldn't be a problem, should it? And there'd be a lot less paperwork business-wise. It makes perfect sense."

"That's not how you ask a witch to marry her!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Says who?" Snape responded, darting forward, taking her down to the bed and kissing her soundly.

The argument didn't last long at all.

* * *

A/N: I know this wasn't as blow by blow as usual. I took a bit of a softer approach because this situation was based on Love. Snape in love always seems so OOC. lol. And I received a few emails begging me to make their first time romantic and passionate. Eh, why not? But, I'll show he still has plenty of snark next chapter. Love does change people, but not completely. _:::brushes away all the residual sugar around keyboard:::_ Thanks for reading.


	59. Rites of Passage

**Chapter 59 ~ The Rites of Passage**

When Harry and Ron found out about Hermione's engagement to Snape, they were both stunned. Just—stunned.

"She has to be marrying him for his money," Ron said firmly.

"No, Ron. Hermione's not like that," Harry said as he read the invitation. The ceremony would be in a month. "Maybe she's pregnant."

Ron turned absolutely green.

"Pregnant with the spawn of Snape? Harry—I seriously think I'm going to be sick."

Ron staggered over to an armchair and sat down. They were at Harry's house in Godric's Hollow. He'd had it rebuilt and now lived there. Harry studied the invitation, and began to think. Dumbledore had told Harry how Snape had protected him over the years, but warned him not to ever say anything to the wizard about it. Harry had followed his instructions, but always felt he owed Snape something, nasty bastard that he was.

"Ron, we should give Snape a bachelor party," he said suddenly.

Ron sat up straight in the arm chair, his blue eyes wide with incredulity as Harry determinedly walked over to his writing desk, sat down and began to pen a letter to Hermione. Ron stood up and walked over, staring down at the parchment, reading what the boy who lived wrote.

"Harry, have you gone nutters? A bachelor party? For Snape? Bullocks. Who would we even invite? Besides, he'd never go for it."

"He might. He's marrying Hermione, Ron. That means he's going to have to deal with her friends. This would get him off to a good start. And I bet Ginny would give Hermione a wedding shower, too. This could be fun," Harry said, finishing the letter with a flourish.

"This could be deadly," Ron replied. "Snape might Kedavra everyone!"

"He won't, Ron. This would be good for him. He's stepping into normal society now. We should welcome him. He's marrying our best friend after all."

Ron frowned. He had messed up with Hermione badly, but they had healed the friendship. He still felt she should have given him another chance. Now, she was marrying Snape of all people. A fate worse than death as far as he was concerned.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," he groused.

Neither did Snape.

"A bachelor party thrown by Potter? I'd rather hang by my wrists and be tortured by the Dark Lord," Snape said sullenly as Hermione glared at him.

"Severus, Harry is making an effort to reach out to you—"

"Well, I'm not interested. I neither want nor need a bachelor party," he hissed, staring into the fireplace, his pale fingers wrapped around a glass of Firewhiskey.

Hermione sighed and sat down in the armchair next to him and stared into the flames too. She had hoped he'd agree because these were her friends, and she wanted them to accept him. She didn't think they'd become pals, but at least they could have some civility. She sighed, and Snape looked over at her. She looked very unhappy.

The wizard scowled reflexively, and looked back into the fireplace. Well, he knew Hermione had a close relationship with Harry and Ron before he asked her—well coerced her into marrying him. They had even had a fight about the wedding. Snape wanting to have a civil ceremony at the Ministry with just a couple of witnesses, but Hermione wanting her day, complete with trimmings.

"I'll only be married once in my life," she told him softly, thus winning him over.

All right. He'd given in on that. Women needed fancy weddings as if they validated something. Besides, Hermione was usually so frugal and thrifty, it would be nice to see her use some of his money on something extravagant and unnecessary. It proved she was human. But a bachelor party?

"There'd probably be strippers," Snape said to her, hoping that might snap her out of her funk.

Hermione shrugged.

"So?" she said. It wasn't as if Severus would be shagging them.

"And drunkenness. Strippers and drunkenness don't go well together," he pressed.

"So, you're afraid you'll get drunk and cheat on me?" Hermione asked him pointedly.

Snape looked at her disdainfully.

"Of course not. I just don't feel I should have to sit around and watch other wizards groping them—and maybe more. It would be like a watered-down revel," he responded.

Hermione blinked at him, then stood up. She had planned to spend the night but now wanted to go home. He was being so unreasonable. Harry would be disappointed.

She looked at Severus. She had something she needed to get off her chest, something she hadn't brought up. Considering his response to Harry reaching out to him, however, she felt it was time to say something.

"Severus, I hope that you realize that when you marry me, you will be marrying more than me. You will be marrying into my social circle. I don't have a large one, but I do have friends that I'm going to want to interact with, friends that matter to me. Friends that I love. I was hoping that you'd at least be civil to them because of my feelings. Marriage is as much a partnership as any business, you know. You have to deal with outside influences and do it well in order to be successful. It works the same way. I'm not asking you to become Harry's best friend too. Just to be civil and meet him partway."

Snape continued to stare into the fireplace, saying nothing. Hermione sighed again.

"I've become part of your life, Severus. Is it too much to ask you to become part of mine? Just to make some small effort to show me that you care about what's important to me outside of our relationship?"

Snape didn't respond. Hermione blinked down at him, her brown eyes wet now. They shifted to the engagement ring resting on her finger for a long moment. Snape saw the way she looked at it, as if she were considering it. He felt a little cold inside at her scrutiny.

Hermione was all he wanted. He cared nothing about her friends or social life. He was covetous and could happily live out the rest of his days never laying eyes on Harry, Ron or anyone else.

But, Hermione couldn't. She hadn't lived the kind of life he did. She had made connections with others. Snape had stayed to himself as much as possible, partially to protect himself. Letting people in could have cost him his life. And, he didn't trust people. Everyone who had been in his life had let him down—except for Hermione.

Now, she was asking him to open up and let others in. He wasn't that kind of man. He liked his space, his solitude. Hermione was the only light in his darkness, and she was asking him to throw open the shuttered windows of his existence and let more light in. He didn't want more light. He only wanted her.

But she didn't come alone, and for the first time, he realized that. Could he expect her to shutter her own windows? Close out everyone she knew?

No, he couldn't do that. But, she wasn't asking him to keep the windows open. Just to let in a little light, make an effort for her sake, if not his own.

"Very well. I'll go to the blasted bachelor party," he hissed, looking as if he'd stepped in a large pile of troll droppings.

Hermione blinked at him in disbelief for a moment, then smiled broadly.

"You will?" she asked him, a delighted little squeak in her voice.

"Yes. For you, I'll do it, Hermione," he replied, defeat in his voice.

"Harry will be thrilled!" Hermione said happily, throwing herself into his arms and snogging him soundly.

"At least someone will be," Snape sighed when she let him up for air.

"You're wonderful," Hermione said softly, kissing him again.

She was so happy with the dark wizard, she didn't go home.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was quite surprised when Harry Potter came to visit him. Harry soon realized that he didn't have enough background on Snape to make a guest list. He had invited male staff members from Hogwarts, and a few Gryffindor friends, but they were all young. The way the guest list was now, it was like a reprisal from Hogwarts. Harry was sure Snape didn't want his past paraded before him. He needed some contemporaries. Lucius, arsehole that he was, might be able to help him with that. So Harry swallowed down all the lingering bad feelings concerning the former Death Eater and went to see him. It wasn't as hard to do as he thought it would be. They were both adults now and what was past, was past. The only real problem they had was about Dobby the House Elf. And he was free and fine now, raising little elves of his own.

"A bachelor party, you say. For Severus? Interesting," Lucius said to Harry as they sat in his luxurious drawing room.

"Yes, sir. But the problem is, I don't really know who to invite. I was hoping you might know some people who would want to come," Harry said earnestly.

Lucius gave him a smile.

"I know quite a few of Severus' former associates. I'm sure they'd be delighted to attend his sending off into wedded bliss," the handsome blonde wizard assured Harry, who smiled back in relief.

"That's fantastic, Lord Malfoy," Harry responded. "I appreciate your help."

Harry was glad he put the past behind him. With Voldemort's disappearance, the Death Eaters disbanded peacefully, most of them happy to be able to return to normal life. A few were still hunted though, such as Bellatrix LeStrange and Fenrir Greyback. Peter Pettigrew was already cooling his heels in Azkaban, and would be doing so for the rest of his life.

Lucius nodded, then his brow furrowed.

"However, Mr. Potter, I have to let you know that these are mature wizards. They will expect a bachelor party that reflects—er – adult tastes," the wizard said.

Harry nodded.

"There will be plenty of food and drinks," Harry replied. "I've secured the old Drumming castle as the site for the party. It's far from everyplace and we won't disturb anyone."

"What about entertainment?" Lucius asked.

"Oh, well there'll be games, drinking games. Sex trivia. And Blue Pensieves," Harry said, his eyes glittering. Blue Pensieves were the wizarding world's equivalent of porn movies, but much more engaging. Fred and George had the randiest collection around. They sold them, after all, in the basement of their shop, lovingly dubbed, the Wanking Grounds. They rented them to Harry for a fair price.

"Games and Pensieves?"

Lucius frowned distastefully. "What about women?"

"Well, we have an exotic dancer," Harry told him.

"Only one? Is she an actual dancer or a stripper?" Lucius inquired.

"I think she's a dancer," Harry replied as Lucius tsked and shook his head.

"Let me provide the 'entertainment,' Mr. Potter. It's the least I can do for my old friend, and in this way, you can be sure the guests will enjoy themselves.

"All right. I'll just need to know how many people are coming so I can make sure there's enough food and drinks. We wouldn't want to run out," Harry said enthusiastically.

"No, we wouldn't want that. Now, what day are you planning to have the party, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, it has to be soon. They're getting married in less than a month," Harry replied.

"Short notice has never been a problem for me, Mr. Potter," Lucius purred. "Now, castle Drumming has a dungeons area doesn't it? Perhaps the party should be held there. It's an atmosphere Severus is familiar and comfortable with . . . "

Hold the party in a dungeon? What a great idea!

Harry was glad he decided to consult Lucius Malfoy. This party was going to be great!

* * *

Hermione had a very nice bridal shower, hosted by Ginny and Mrs. Weasley in a private room at the Three Broomsticks. Her fellow Gryffindors were in attendance. Present were Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Lavender Brown, Patrica Stimpson, and Parvati Patil, who brought her sister Padma along. Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw and Susan Bones of Hufflepuff house were also there.

Minerva and the female staff members had been invited, but the Headmistress pointedly turned the invitation down in protest. She also forbade any female teachers to attend the bridal shower. She was quite upset at finding out about Hermione's and Snape's marriage plans. It was scandalous. He was old enough to be her father and her former teacher!

It made Minerva think she had been lax in her duties and Snape must have preyed on Hermione's innocent sensibilities and seduced her in some strange, twisted manner. He probably pulled it off by promising her the world since he was rich now. The blackguard.  
Minerva wished Snape was still employed at Hogwarts, so she could have the satisfaction of firing him. The pedophile.

Hermione could have been thirty and Minerva would still think of her as a child and Snape as a dirty old lecher. She had real issues with letting go.

At the bridal shower, there was a lot of chattering and giggling and pressing for details. Everyone wanted to know how Hermione became involved with Snape.

"Were you shagging at Hogwarts?" Parvati asked her with round, brown eyes.

All the witches looked at her expectantly, shuddering inside at the possibility. Snape was so creepy. But, he was poor then.

"No! Of course not. But . . . but we were secretly courting," Hermione said, reddening.

"Courting? Snape courted you?" Padma asked.

"In a way, yes. He refused to become—intimate until after I graduated. He felt that was the proper way to go about things," Hermione admitted. "So we just got to know each other. And snogged a little."

The witches all looked at each other. Wow. Snape sounded as if he'd missed the last century of human development. No one courted anymore.

"He sounds old-fashioned," Ginny said. "You'd better find out now if he plans to put a chastity belt on you when he leaves on long journeys."

Hermione scowled at her, but was beset by more questions before she could respond to the grinning redhead.

"So, what happened when you left Hogwarts? Did you – did he – what was it like?"

"You are all asking me such personal questions," Hermione said, blushing. "I don't know if I ought to answer them."

"Well, you're the first one of us getting married, Hermione. We want to know how you went about it, of course. I mean, you did manage to get a wizard to commit to you, even if it is Snape," Susan said as the other witches murmured agreement.

"Well, it's nothing I went about," Hermions said, her eyes softening. "I just, just believed in his dream really. It was more him, than me. He was attracted to me, but I think my mind had a lot to do with it. He appreciated—appreciates how smart I am. We just grew close – "

Ginny yawned exaggeratedly and looked at Hermione with narrowed eyes.

"When was the moment you realized you wouldn't mind him shagging you? That's where something like this really starts. Everyone talks about Love, but I'm telling you . . . it's that tickle that gets you," she said knowledgably.

The other witches all hissed at her to be quiet and urged Hermione to continue.

Hermione thought about it, and decided to tell them what happened.

"Well, I had done a lot of work for the professor gathering information about opening his business, and was exhausted and fell asleep in his office one night after curfew. He put me in his bed and let me sleep there for hours. I awoke in the middle of the night and found myself there. We talked. He tried to tell me I could force myself to go back to sleep if I wanted to, and I told him you couldn't force what came naturally. So we had a bit of a debate. Then he said he wasn't going to waste time talking about something he could show me. I wanted him to show me."

The witches all swooned when Hermione told them how Snape had backed her into the wall by invading her space, then kissed her and led her back to where she was originally standing with his lips. And that was how they began courting.

"He kissed so good you decided to go out with him?" Lavender Brown asked in amazement.

Well, that was really oversimplifying matters but basically, that was the gist of it.

"Yes, I guess I did," Hermione responded with a little eye roll.

"I've done that!" Susan and the others exclaimed, rather happy to find out they had at least something in common with Hermione that might land them husbands.

Hermione glossed over their first night together. There were some things that were just too personal to share. A couple of dismayed exclamations followed concerning the way he proposed to her, but Hermione assured the young women that he did finally ask her properly, when he purchased her engagement ring and was already sure she'd say yes. He asked her to marry him again as he was slipping the ring on to her finger. Not much room to say no, but at least he made some effort.

After more chatter, some fun, naughty games and a few glasses of wine, they set about opening Hermione's gifts. Every single one had something to do with being tied up, handcuffed, flogged or dominated in some manner. Black leather corsets, peek-a-boo teddies, soft ropes, and furry handcuffs abounded as the witches all blushed.

"What is this? Are you all trying to outfit me BDSM or something?" Hermione asked, eyeing all the sexy garb, accessories and toys.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders apologetically.

"Well, you are marrying Snape. You know, Snape. That's kind of synonymous with dark, dismal and down in the dungeons. We just kind of played it by ear, putting a sexy spin on it. Our theme was "Hermione Getting Dirty in the Dungeons" she said as Hermione examined a riding crop, shaking her head.

Hermione laughed as she held up a pair of crotchless black knickers. She stretched the gap wide and looked through it at Ginny and the others. Then she dropped them back into the box.

"Of course it was," she responded with a smile.

* * *

A/N: I could've gone into the epilogue here and really planned to, but then, I couldn't help what happened. Hope you enjoyed. More to come. Thanks for reading.


	60. Off to the Party

**Chapter 60 ~ Off to the Party**

Snape stood at the window of his apartment, scowling down at the road below. He was wearing dress robes and waiting for Potter to arrive and usher him to his "bachelor" party. He could only imagine how inane it would be, no doubt peppered with former students, strippers, alcohol and tasteless Blue Pensieves. A juvenile affair at best. Hopefully, they would all get shit-faced and he'd be able to escape long before sunrise.

Hermione's wedding shower had been quite interesting, judging by all the gifts she brought home. Snape commented that it seemed her girlfriends were thinking more of him than of her as he eyed the sexy garments and toys with flared nostrils. To his disappointment, Hermione put them all away, stating they were supposed to be utilized AFTER they were married.

Snape couldn't wait. Hermione had cut him off until they were officially married. Of course, being a man, Snape couldn't understand her reasoning. Sex would be just as enjoyable on the wedding night as it usually was. It wasn't quantity that mattered, but quality. The dark wizard always made sure it was quality. But Hermione wouldn't budge on it.

"It will be sweeter if we wait," she told him softly, ignoring his snort of disagreement.

Snape wasn't sure about that. Sexual depravation, sexy garments, fluffy handcuffs and riding crops did not seem conducive to "sweet" sex. Good sex? Yes. Dirty sex? Yes. But sweet sex?

That would definitely be a matter of perspective.

Snape continued to look down into the street, his pale hands clasped behind his back, his hair shining and silky. Hermione wanted him to look like he made an effort to be presentable, and had inspected him before leaving him to his night. She was quite excited for him.

"Just enjoy yourself, Severus. Everything Harry has arranged is with you in mind. Be civil if you can't be nice," she chided him, before kissing him. "Promise me."

Snape muttered something under his breath. It might have been a promise, but it might not have been. Hermione took it as if he had agreed. She was still an optimistic Gryffindor at heart.

Suddenly, Snape heard the sound of hoof beats. A gleaming black carriage drawn by four black horses and driven by a wizard in a top hat stopped in front of the shop. The door opened and Harry Potter got out and knocked on the shop door.

"Here goes nothing," the Potions master said under his breath, then he descended the stairs into the shop proper, and with a reflexive sneer, pulled the door open to greet his host.

Harry was just as tall as Snape was now, and smiled at him, his green eyes excited behind his glasses as he stuck out his hand to the wizard.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," he said enthusiastically.

Snape eyed his outstretched hand for a moment, then pictured Hermione scowling at him before he firmly grasped Harry's hand and pumped it stiffly.

"Mr. Potter," he said shortly.

"You don't have to be so formal, professor. You can call me Harry," Harry said.

He could call him a lot of things, Harry being the least of them.

"Harry," Snape repeated, feeling a bit nauseous at accepting the first name basis. "But, you will continue to address me formally. I prefer it."

"Of course, sir," Harry said, walking to the carriage and opening the door for the wizard. "Your carriage awaits."

Snape stood there, looking at the horses. There was something different about them.

"What kind of horses are these?" the dark wizard asked.

"Oh. Wind horses. They're very fast," Harry replied, closing the door and walking up to the horses, Snape following.

"It's the legs," Harry said, pointing.

Snape blinked. He could see when the horses shifted slightly, they had two sets of legs, eight in all. He looked up at the driver, who seemed to be an Asian. The man nodded at Snape, who once more looked at the horses.

"Are you ready to go, professor?" Harry asked. He was on a schedule.

Snape didn't say anything but followed Harry back to the carriage itself and entered when the boy who lived held open the door.

The carriage was tastefully done in leather, velvet and wood. Snape sat down and Harry sat opposite him. The driver let out a whistle and away they flew. There was very little motion inside the carriage.

"It's going to take a little time to reach the castle, Professor. Would you like a drink? I have Ogden's Firewhiskey."

Snape nodded. He could use a drink. Harry went into a small liquor cabinet recessed in the wall and took out a tumbler and a very old bottle of unopened Firewhiskey and handed it to Snape for his perusal. Hm. Bottled in 1826.

Snape's black eyes darted to Harry, then back to the bottle. Obviously, the young wizard had spared no expense.

"A good year," Snape said.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied with a small smile. Snape liked it. Good.

As Snape poured himself a drink, Harry subtly flicked his wand and music began to play. It was Vivaldi. Snape loved Vivaldi. The wizard took a sip of the Firewhiskey and eyed it appreciatively before settling back and relaxing, Harry watching him as he closed his eyes, listening to his favorite composer.

This was rather nice.

Hermione warned Harry not to try and make too much conversation with her fiancé. She confided that the only reason he even agreed to go to the bachelor party was to please her. Harry had been surprised at this. Snape seemed to be such a selfish wizard. Well, obviously not when it came to Hermione. Harry was glad about that. It seemed Snape really cared about her feelings.

Harry let Snape enjoy the music and Firewhiskey for a while, then cautiously pulled a little black box with a green and silver bow out of his pocket. He cleared his throat and Snape opened his eyes, narrowing them at him.

"Um, professor, I have a little gift for you—for the occasion. It's not much, but I wanted to give you something in celebration," he said haltingly.

Snape's nose wrinkled up as he looked at the wrapped box. A gift? Harry extended his hand, his green eyes a bit worried. Would Snape take it?

Snape looked at Harry, then reached out and took the gift, pulling the ribbon from around it and lifting the lid. He stared down at the small vial filled with shining liquid that looked like molten gold. He looked up at Harry sharply.

"It's—it's a vial of Felix Felicis," Harry said, blinking at the wizard.

Snape picked up the vial and opened it. Immediately, small droplets of the potion began leaping out of the vial and falling back into it in a beautiful display. Felix Felicis had been banned completely in the wizarding world and brewing it could land a fellow squarely in Azkaban for a year or two. Even asking for it meant incarceration.

"Where did you get this?" Snape hissed at him. Obviously, it was brewed perfectly.

Harry reddened.

"I—I brewed it myself," Harry told him, "I used a Pensieve to get it right, but it still took a couple of tries. It works. I tried a bit of it myself before bottling it."

Snape recapped the vial and put it back in the box. He put the box in the pocket of his dress robes, then eyed Harry.

"I take it you believe I'm in need of luck," the dark wizard said to him, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, everyone needs a leg up now and then," Harry replied.

"It's an illegal potion, Mr. P—Harry," Snape said, correcting himself in his address. "You could be sent to Azkaban should I reveal you gave this to me."

Harry gave him a wide-eyed look. Would Snape turn him in for giving him a gift?

"However, I'm sure Hermione, as law-abiding as she pretends to be, wouldn't appreciate my whistle blowing," Snape added, his face twisting up a bit as he imagined Hermione calling off the wedding. "So, I accept your gift—under duress."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Thank my wife-to-be," Snape replied, sitting back and closing his eyes.

They rode in silence for the rest of the way to the castle, Snape listening to Vivaldi and enjoying two more Firewhiskeys and Harry thanking his lucky stars that someone had finally managed to rein in Snape's nastiness.

Despite him marrying Hermione, it was clear Snape was still one onerous bastard.

* * *

Castle Drummings sat high on a hill overlooking a dismal moor. The structure was made of grey-black stone and triangular. Two towers topped with bell shaped domes towered above it, and dark, blood-like stains of rust and dirt spread across the walls from the gutters. Torches spluttered on the outside and cut into the glistening stone were leaded windows through which one could see heavy curtains pulled tightly closed. A feeling of menace and danger permeated the grounds. Harry had chosen this castle because he felt Snape would feel right at home with the bleak, dark atmosphere.

The coach pulled up to the wide entrance. Two other black coaches were parked outside, and there was a rack that held a number of brooms. A young wizard dressed in a waistcoat stood nearby, guarding the vehicles, and he hurried up to the coach and opened the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter and Mr. Snape. Welcome to castle Drummings," the young man said with a bow as Harry and Snape exited the coach. "You're expected."

"Thanks," Harry said to the young wizard, then looked at Snape who was eyeing the coaches and brooms. Who was attending this party? There were at least ten brooms and the coaches were of good quality.

"Come on, professor," Harry said, looking excited.

Snape followed Harry into the castle proper. It was dimly lit and spooky, sporting bare walls and cavernous halls. Widely spaced torches spluttered, creating eerie shadows on the stone walls. They seemed to dance with a life of their own, hovering over the passing wizards. Harry flinched a couple of times, Snape smirking at him from behind. It seemed Harry had chosen a venue that spooked even him.

Snape thought it was rather—thoughtful. He had assumed Harry had chosen something more party-like and unsuitable. Obviously, the young wizard had at least some grasp of the surroundings he would prefer.

"Harry, who are my guests?" Snape inquired.

"Oh, just a few people," Harry replied evasively.

"I imagine all former students," Snape said with a sneer.

"Some, not all," Harry replied.

Now Snape was curious as they came to an ill-lit and narrow stairwell, leading down into the castle depths.

"The dungeons?" the wizard asked as they descended the stone stairs, avoiding the cobwebs.

"Yeah," Harry said. "We thought you'd prefer the atmosphere."

They reached the lower levels. The walls were close and again widely spaced, spluttering torches lit their way. They passed by a number of heavy wooden doors with bars on them, walking deeper into the dungeon area. The air was moist and cool, reminiscent of the dungeons of Hogwarts, but even danker and less inviting.

Finally, Harry stopped in front of a large wooden door.

"Here we are, professor," he said, pushing it open. It creaked horribly. Snape followed him in. It was a bit brighter here, and tables draped in black cloth stood against the wall, covered with platters of food and bottles of drink. But the large stone room was only half lit, the other part bathed in darkness. More Vivaldi was softly playing in the background.

A large throne-like chair was pushed against the wall, facing the darkness, a small table next to it. Apparently, that was where Snape would sit during the festivities.

Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Fred and George Weasley were standing by the liquor table, drinking. Hagrid and Flitwick were sampling tidbits of food from the table. Everyone looked up when Harry and Snape entered, the Gryffindors paling and putting their cups down almost guiltily. Both Hagrid and Flitwick grinned broadly at the dark wizard, who narrowed his eyes.

Good Grindelows, it was Hogwarts all over again. And things were looking so promising.

Hagrid and Flitwick approached Snape first.

"Hiya perfessor!" Hagrid said, patting Snape on the back and making him stumble forward a few paces. "Congrats! Great little witch yer got thar!"

"Thank you," Snape said tightly.

Flitwick scuttled up next.

"Congratulations, Severus," the little wizard squeaked. "All the best to you!"

Snape nodded as the Gryffindors hurried up to give their congratulations. .

"Congratulations, professor Snape," the young wizards all said, falling over each other in a nervous effort to shake the wizard's hand. Snape said nothing as his former students greeted him. Fred pressed a drink into his hand.

"Yes, congratulations, Severus," a familiar voice purred from the darkness. Suddenly, torches flared and who that voice belonged to, was revealed.

"Lucius," Snape breathed as the blonde wizard bowed exaggeratedly.

"Not only Lucius," the pureblood purred, "but a few other associates."

Suddenly, several wizards in full Death Eater garb appeared behind Lucius.

"Your former brethren wouldn't miss your send off into married bliss for a bevy of bound Muggle women," Lucius said with a leer.

Lucius proceeded to introduce Snape's guests.

"Amycus Carrow, Joseph Crabbe, Antionin Dolohov, Fredrick Goyle, Walden MacNair, Hephestus Nott, Augustus Rookwood, Thorfin Rowle, and Cronin Yaxley."

The Death Eaters each removed their masks as their names were announced, grinning lasciviously at the Potions master, who blinked at them in disbelief. Harry had invited these people? Was he insane?

All the Gryffindors looked rather terrified, including Harry. Lord Malfoy had invited former Death Eaters?

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron whispered as they stared at the other guests. "What the fuck were you thinking? We're surrounded by Death Eaters."

"Former Death Eaters," Harry whispered back as they all approached Snape, tucking their masks into their pockets. A few had been released from prison on the grounds that they had been controlled by Voldemort and it couldn't be proven that they'd actually killed anyone.

"Well, what did you expect, Ron? Death Eaters are who Snape hung out with, after all?" Fred whispered, his eyes narrowed.

One after the other the Death Eaters shook Snape's hand or patted him on the back. Snape took a large swallow of the Firewhiskey in his hand, then looked at Harry.

"I have you to thank for this, don't I?" he hissed as the Death Eaters headed straight for the liquor table, ready to get their groove on.

"I didn't want it to be all students and staff, professor," Harry said, "so I asked Lord Malfoy if he knew anyone who'd like to come."

Snape sighed. Harry had just been trying to equalize the guest list. Well, he'd managed to do it, all right.

"Severus, do take your throne," Lucius said, walking up to him with a smile. "It's time for me to introduce the 'entertainment.' I'm sure you'll find it quite delicious."

Snape stared at Lucius.

"As long as it isn't a bevy of bound Muggle women, Lucius," he replied tightly.

Both of Lucius' aristocratic eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Of course not, Severus. That would be against the law. But—it's the next best thing," he purred. "Believe me."

* * *

A/N: Finally, another chapter out. Thanks for your patience and for reading.


	61. Oh the Debauchery!

**Chapter 61 ~ Oh, the Debauchery!**

Snape walked over to the large high-backed chair and sat down stiffly. Harry approached with a green and silver scepter and crown in his hands as the wizard scowled at him.

"Um, for the man of the hour," Harry murmured, offering the items to Snape.

Again, Hermione's frowning face popped into the Potions master's mind, and he took the crown, placed it on his head, then took the scepter. Harry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he walked away and joined his fellow Gryffindors, who were all staring at Lucius as if they expected him to explode.

"What I don't do for that witch," Snape thought as he adjusted his crown.

Lucius walked over to the libations table and poured himself a drink, then turned and lifted it toward Snape, the others following suit. He had his silver-tipped cane with him.

"To Severus Snape who has managed to procure himself a fertile young bride, albeit, a Muggleborn. May you find as much happiness as is possible for a wizard such as yourself," he said.

Everyone toasted Snape, who looked at Lucius with narrowed black eyes. That toast was rather insulting, but he did nothing but nod. He watched as they all drank to him, some of the Gryffindors coughing as the Firewhiskey went down. They were just starting out. Lucius returned his cup to the table and walked directly in front of Snape.

"Now, for the entertainment," he said, stepping aside and clapping his hands together.

Vivaldi's music stopped and a drumbeat began.

"Eyes front, gentlemen," Lucius said, drawing his wand and flicking it toward the dark side of the room. Torches flared up.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed as he stared.

Standing against the far wall were twenty women, all similarly dressed in black brassieres and thongs, with sheer black fabric falling like extended loin clothes before and aft. All wore black nail polish on their manicured fingers and toes. They were barefoot and quite the mix of races and colors. One woman was huge in stature, but proportionate. In other words, Hagrid-sized. There was another that was quite tiny that immediately attracted Flitwick's attention. His two horn-like white curls seemed to curl tighter as he looked at her.

The Death Eaters let out whoops and expletives as Harry and his friends just stared at the women with open mouths. You couldn't say which was more beautiful.

Snape just eyed them. They were fittingly attractive, but too perfect. The kind of women he had never stood a chance with when he was single and poor.

"Are they dancers?" George blurted out.

Lucius smirked at him.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, they can dance, among other things."

He gestured to a curvaceous blonde, who separated from the group and walked up to Lucius sexily, her hips rolling like thunder as the Death Eaters hooted appreciatively. Hagrid's eyes didn't leave the half-giant sized beauty. She stopped beside him.

"Kiss me," Lucius told the woman, who leaned in and covered his mouth with her own, slipping him the tongue and rubbing her body against his as the others watched.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" cried MacNair, slapping another leering Death Eater on the back as Lucius tonsil wrestled the blonde beauty.

Lucius broke the kiss and looked at the group.

"They are very accommodating," he said softly, caressing the woman's blonde hair gently. Suddenly, he grasped the top of his cane, pulled out a sharp thin sword and drove it through the woman's belly, the blade protruding from the other side as the Death Eaters shouted in glee.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Harry cried, pulling out his wand

Snape started and both the Gryffindors and staff members pulled their wands as well. The Death Eaters followed suit and there was a stand-off.

The woman stood there, looking at Lucius calmly, and the wizard withdrew his blade, the bloodless wound sealing itself. Amazed, everyone lowered their wands.

"That should have killed her," Harry breathed.

"If she were alive, Mr. Potter, it would have. However—she isn't. She feels no pain and cannot die. She will however, fade away when her purpose is served. These are not flesh and blood women, but Pleasure golems. For all intents and purposes, nothing more than animate sex toys. You can treat them however you wish. And for those of you who have not yet experienced the pleasure of a woman, these will be excellent practice, although technically you will remain virgins. They will serve you food and drink, and do anything you ask of them as well as allow you to do what you wish to them. For those of you who are married or involved with a witch, you are off the hook as far as cheating goes. Indulging yourself is just like wanking off with an aid."

Here the pureblood looked at Severus.

"Serve our honored guest," he said to the golem next to him.

She smiled at Snape, who wore a stony expression, then walked over to the food table and collected a number of finger foods, then over to the liquor table and poured him a drink. Holding the plate high, she walked over to Snape, everyone's eyes locked to her round arse visible beneath the sheer cloth. She knelt before Snape, offering him both the food and drink, her head bowed.

Snape studied her, and started to take the plate.

"No, Severus. She will feed you," Lucius replied as the woman rose, plucked a tidbit off the plate and held it before the wizard's mouth, looking at him sloe-eyed. Snape slowly opened his mouth and she slid the food between his lips, letting her fingers linger on them a moment as he chewed. A cry of approval rose from the Death Eaters.

All the Gryffindors looked back toward the women. Were they dreaming?

"Damn Harry, this has to be the best bachelor party ever thrown!" Dean breathed, his brown eyes resting on a black golem with long kinky hair, a well-endowed body and doe-like eyes.

"I—I think I should go, Harry. This is a bit—much," Neville breathed. He was pale and looked scared to death.

Ron grabbed Neville's arm tightly, not taking his eyes off the golems.

"Are you insane, Neville? Look at them! Who cares if they're golems? They'll do whatever we want! You're not going anywhere. You're going to stay here and take it like a wizard," Ron hissed. "You're a bloody Gryffindor. Where's your courage?"

Fred and George were rubbing their hands together lustfully.

"This beats Blue Pensieves by miles," Fred said to his brother.

"Interactive," George agreed. "Very nice."

Harry however, looked torn. These were the sexiest female forms he'd ever seen in his life. They were the stuff fantasies were made of. Part of him wanted to explore these golems fully, but that Gryffindor sense of honor made him hedge. He went out with Ginny after all. He looked over at Ron.

"I don't think Ginny would approve of this, Ron," Harry said doubtfully.

Ron had absolutely no qualms about fucking a golem, particularly any golem that looked like these. His face screwed up in mock horror as Harry invoked the name of his sister.

"What? You're not cheating, Harry. They're golems. Even if you're under Veritaserum, you can say you weren't with a woman at the bachelor party. Hell, I'm not going to let Lavender get in the way of this. No way!"

"All right, ladies. Mingle, serve and obey!" Lucius said to the golems who all walked forward, went to the tables, collected food and drink and began mingling with the wizards, Snape watching from his throne. He noticed the golems were really pushing the liquor. Several Death Eaters were already surrounding a golem, the creature dropping down in the midst of them and disappearing as they crowded about, unfastening their robes.

Snape waved away the golem serving him and every other one that approached him. He wouldn't be party to this, but it would be interesting to watch the Gryffindors handle the situation. Probably very entertaining as well.

Snape smirked as he saw Neville pressed against the wall, red-faced as two golems focused on him, one feeding him and the other offering him liquor. He gulped the shot of harsh liquor down, rasping, only to be offered more. He'd be completely inebriated in no time.

Fred and George had a very buxom golem in a corner, both of them feeling her up unabashedly, exclaiming over how real she felt as they fondled her body.

"Oh, these are great, Fred," George panted as he came up from between her exposed breasts. "We have to ask Lord Malfoy where he got them. We need to start an account with the producer. Imagine these in the Wanking Grounds. We could rent them out as sex aids and make a fortune."

Fred, who was opening his trousers and pulling out a long, red erection ready for a bit of mouth action, heartily agreed.

Hagrid was sitting on a chair, the over-sized golem sitting on his lap, apparently listening to him as he tried to make conversation.

"Er—yah come 'ere of'en?" he ventured, not knowing what to do with his hands.

Lucius walked up and studied the half-giant.

"She's not a conversationalist, Hagrid," he informed the big oaf. "She's for pleasure. For fucking."

Hagrid reddened as he flicked his eyes up at the lovely golem, who smiled at him softly.

"Merlin," Lucius breathed in disgust. "I see you're sorely in need of a jump start. Do him."

At Lucius' order, the golem wrapped her arms around Hagrid's neck and kissed him deeply, pressing into his large body. Hagrid started to respond, caressing her back, his large hands moving over her skin.

Lucius shook his head, then continued moving around the room, encouraging the guests. He looked up to see Snape watching but not participating. He was always like that, even at the revels. There was a time Lucius admired Snape's sexual prowess, but he had been younger then, and his partners female Death Eaters who he seemed to take great pleasure in punishing for no other reason than he knew they wouldn't have accepted him except for his favor with the Dark Lord. Upon Voldemort's return and the instituting of the revels, Snape no longer displayed any interest in partaking of the fleshly bounty, preferring to kill the victims afterwards. That was his pleasure. Lucius often wondered if he had necrophilistic tendencies, preferring dead women to live ones after Lily's death.

Ever alert, Lucius looked around for Flitwick and found him and the tiny golem under the food table, the wizard's face planted squarely between the golem's thighs.

Lucius was impressed. When it came to the ancient little Charms master, there might be snow on the turrets, but the lips were smoking.

Snape watched as the guests became drunker and bolder, even Harry participating in sex with the golems. But Snape found him garden variety randy, nothing special. But Neville Longbottom was a bit of a surprise. He had joined in with the Death Eaters and was rather abusive once he got started, egged on by the dark wizards as he gagged and buggered two golems at once. Snape's eyes narrowed as he noticed how rounded Neville's bum was. He was bound to attract the attention of the Death Eaters, who had no qualms with anal sex.

"Hey Neville," Amycus called out to the panting Gryffindor, who was fully naked and covered in sweat, wetness pouring down his back and into the crease of his arse. Amycus' lusty eyes rested on him as Neville grunted an answer.

"Ever have your prostate stroked, mate? It's the ultimate pleasure," the Death Eater breathed.

Neville was caught up in sensation and answered in the negative as he kept at the golems. Next thing he knew, he was being penetrated by Amycus, who cast a silencing spell around them, so no one else would hear. But everyone was so drunk, Neville's plight was only seen by Snape, who did nothing. Neville Longbottom was finally living up to his name as the Death Eaters took their turns on him. The young wizard was so drunk, he wouldn't remember who did what to him. Witches weren't the only ones who needed to be able to hold their liquors in the presence of randy, unscrupulous men.

Ah well, a lesson learned.

Lucius finally joined the festivities, being serviced by three sexy golems at once, and inviting Ron and Harry over, a leer on his face as he watched them defile themselves, lost to excess and lust. This was a true joy and Lucius was sure that Harry wouldn't be able to reconcile his actions later on, so these memories might be good for a bit of extortion in the future. Snape thought the same thing.

So the night went, all of his guests indulging themselves as if at the best of Voldemort's revels, and Snape presiding over it like Caligula presided over the debauchery of his court centuries ago. As the exhausted revelers wound down, sprawled naked on the floor, drunk and sated, the golems returned to their positions against the wall, then faded away.

Snape looked at the overturned tables, scattered food, naked arses and shook his head. He stood up, placed his crown and scepter on the throne and exited the den of iniquity. He had done as Hermione asked. It had been mildly entertaining, especially when Ron projectile vomited on Lucius while they were sharing a golem. He blasted the pureblood right in the face, not missing a stroke. Definitely a gag-worthy moment in the annals of sexual depravity.

It was a night he would never forget.

As he made his way out of the castle and to his coach, Snape wondered if Hermione would want details. The dark wizard smirked.

He was very tempted to give her a Pensieve of it.

* * *

Hermione spent the next week apologizing to Snape for making him go to the bachelor party. She had indeed pressed him for details and he did indeed give her a Pensieve of it. To say she was horrified was an understatement.

And poor Harry. Hermione lit into him so hard that his ears turned red and started smoking as she condemned him.

"That wasn't a bachelor party, Harry! That was—that was—I don't even know how to describe what that was! And poor Neville getting buggered by all those Death Eaters! It was awful! I should have never let you throw Severus that party. He may be scarred for life!"

Harry blinked at her. Yes, it was pretty bad—but Snape scarred by it? Never. He watched the entire thing without attempting to stop any of it. Harry was sure he had seen worse.

"It wasn't me, Hermione. Lucius Malfoy arranged the entertainment," Harry said weakly.

"But you should have known better than to trust a Malfoy, Harry! And you were right there in the middle of it, shagging golems as if it were going out of style! It's just—disgusting. I don't even want to begin on Ron and Fred and George! And—Flitwick and Hagrid! My gods, Harry!"

Harry apologized nearly a hundred times, but Hermione was furious at him.

"Well, I won't come to the wedding, then, Hermione," he said heavily, "since you're so mad at me. I might ruin it for you."

This brought Hermione up short. She sighed.

"No, I want you at the wedding, Harry. No matter how much of a disaster the bachelor party was, I know you really did it because you wanted to show Severus a good time. You gave him the party because you cared enough to reach out to him because he's an important part of my life. That's what really matters, Harry. You were trying to be a good friend and supportive. I do appreciate that."

Harry blinked at her.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said softly. He looked like a whipped house elf.

"But you'll never be put in charge of another party concerning me or Severus for the rest of your life!" she added.

"That's fine," Harry said.

Harry really was sorry, but sorry that Hermione found out what happened at the party, not about what happened itself. It had been the wildest night of his life as well as the lives of his fellow Gryffindors. He hadn't been aware of what happened to Neville, since he didn't say anything about it. Actually, Neville was just as enthusiastic about how great the party was as the rest of them. Maybe he naturally went both ways and didn't know it until that night.

Anyway, Snape wasn't supposed to tell Hermione. What happened at bachelor parties was usually kept a secret from any females remotely involved in the upcoming nuptials. But, Snape was Snape. He probably did it on purpose so Hermione wouldn't insist he participate in anything else Harry might do. He was nasty that way.

Hermione returned to London every night for the next week as Snape made it a point to seem quite negatively affected by the bachelor party. Hermione even offered to have a night of intimacy, which would break their self-imposed celibacy.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly, Hermione," Snape told her soberly. "It's—it's too soon."

Hermione pampered and worried over him, waiting on the wizard hand and foot in an attempt to make him feel better. She cooked, drew his bath, massaged his feet and brewed many of the stinkiest potions he had on his list. Snape enjoyed her guilty ministrations very much.

But Hermione didn't have to worry about the dark wizard's "traumatic" experience. He'd be fully recovered from his ordeal by the wedding night, she could count on that.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	62. Epilogue

**Chapter 62 ~ Epilogue**

In the alternate universe, great changes had happened. The staff at Hogwarts finally crumbled under the boycott and gave in to the extra credit regulations, providing both a standardized list and alternative options to earn extra points. The students were ecstatic and in-fighting was at an all time low, at least to the end of the term. Although the teachers lost sexual access to the student body as a whole, there were still a few students who preferred dallying with teachers to written work, so they weren't totally deprived.

Hermione Granger graduated with above average marks, but not with the Outstanding grades of her counterpart. But, to be fair, if the changes in the marking methods had happened a few years earlier, she might have done much better academically. Still, the alternate world had advanced educational opportunities that the original wizarding world did not. There were schools of Higher Learning. In other words, universities. She continued her studies after graduation.

She also continued her relationship with one Severus Snape. In fact, they were married for the purposes of "eventual procreation." Theirs was the traditional open marriage, and Harry and Ron were brought in as lovers for both spouses, as was Deidre. Deidre had a bit of a grudge against Hermione because she had hoped to marry Snape, but she managed to get over it once she and Hermione became intimate and discovered they had a taste for each other. Besides, it was quite fun when they teamed up on Snape and took turns dominating and humiliating him. As a Gryffindor, he was still quite soft.

And, he loved it.

All in all, Slytherin Hermione Granger and Gryffindor Severus Snape had their Happily Ever After. It would have never happened if not for that fateful trip through the looking glass and an enlightening if brutal encounter with the alternate universe's snarkiest wizard.

The same could be said for Gryffindor Hermione Granger and Slytherin Severus Snape, who also married in a beautiful ceremony that was covered by the press. Of course there were smatterings of negative news accusing Hermione of being an unscrupulous gold digger who only gave Snape the time of day after he inherited Albus Dumbledore's fortune.

The smattering came from the poison quill of Rita Skeeter, who not only disliked Hermione, but was jealous of her good fortune. The couple could care less.

The wedding night went off without a hitch, although there were more than a few gasps, squeals and Silencing spells cast. Hermione's gifts from the girls were totally tested out, mostly on Snape because Hermione finally realized that he couldn't have been that traumatized by the bachelor party because of his role as a spy all those years. She stunned him and cuffed him to the bed when he started to undress.

Snape awoke to find his beloved in a leather corset, fishnet stockings, crotchless knickers and slapping a riding crop in the palm of her hand. He could have come on himself.

And did. Several times as she "punished" him for making her wait on him hand and foot.

And, he loved it.

Their apothecary business was a smashing success, and they were kept quite busy brewing and moving about the wizarding world in their very special shop. They even made extra galleons on Sundays, when patrons could take an hour-long ride in the shop for a fee.

One morning, the couple awoke to find themselves moving across an unfamiliar moor, the shop running determinedly and refusing to stop on Snape's orders. All they could do was hang on.

"I thought you said this would never happen!" Hermione hissed at Snape as they stood at the windows, looking at the mountains that loomed ahead.

Snape simply shrugged.

"Obviously, I was wrong," he said.

The chicken-legged shop ran for a night and a day before stopping in a great field. Both Snape and Hermione looked out with rounded eyes as they saw a number of other chicken-legged houses, crashing into each other and a demure, pink-tinted house, sitting off to the side.

"Apparently, it's mating season," Snape observed as a house was knocked to its back, its legs scrambling for purchase.

Chicken-legged houses mated every thirteen years, the females laying one large egg and producing a chick that was self-sustaining from birth. It then roamed wild until a Baba Yaga managed to tame it.

"Can you at least let us out?" Hermione shouted at the shop in desperation.

Luckily, it listened, lowered itself and allowed its owners to leave. From a safe distance away, Hermione and Snape watched as their shop battled for the female. Hermione found herself rooting for it as it came up against a huge black log cabin, with great black scaly legs and angry windows. They leapt at each other like roosters striking with their spurs. The other house was larger, but Snape's shop was determined. It won and drove all the other cabins away. It then mounted the female, wood scraping, bumping and creaking away as they copulated. When finished, the shop scratched the ground around the female making great grooves in the earth and let out a deafening, wooden sounding crow of victory. Then it returned to Hermione and Snape, lowered itself and allowed them in, heading back to Hogsmeade.

"Well, that was educational," Snape said to his wife as they headed back.

"We'd better keep track of the years that pass. We don't want to be caught by surprise again," Hermione said, marking the date down on a calendar. She turned to find Snape staring at her, his eyes gleaming.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him.

Snape continued to stare at her for a few more moments, then scratched his feet on the floor and let out a very good imitation of a cock's crow.

"I believe it's mating season," he purred as she giggled and made a weak attempt to get away from him.

She failed, as usual.

THE END

* * *

A/N: I thought this would be a good place to end the story with a quick wrap up. I've done plenty of wedding scenes and honeymoon scenes in other stories and didn't feel it necessary to do them here. They can get repetitive. But the shop running away with them appealed to me, and I thought about it the moment I introduced the house. So, thank you very much for reading Through the Looking Glass. ***

A/A/N: For those of you who enjoy reversed roles and twists and haven't yet read it, I suggest checking out my story "In an Alternate Universe." In that completed story, Hermione is the snarky Slytherin Potions mistress, and Snape is the young and totally enamored and lusting Gryffindor student. It's a lot of fun with Harry and Ron as comedy relief. ***


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